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P^SONAG 


















SUNSHINE 

AMONG THE CLOUDS; 

OR, 

THE MACDONALDS. 

A STORY OF TRUST ON TRIAL. 


r 


BY 

William D. 


/ 

Hedden. 




ILLUSTJ^ATIONS. 


NEW YORK : 

U. D. WARD, 

150 NASSAU ST. 


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O,. 1S77 


i'of 



COPYRIGHT 

By U. D. ward, 
1877 - 



national PRINTING CO., 
STEREOTYPERS, 

13 CHAMBERS STREET, 
NEW YORK. 


THIS BOOK IS LOVINGLY 


DEDICATED TO MY FRIENDS IN , 

WHOSE CONSTANT FIDELITY, DURING A MINISTRY OF 
MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS, HAS BEEN 
“SUNSHINE AMONG MY CLOUDS.” 


THE AUTHOR, 



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CONTENTS. 


PHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. Andrew Macdonald and John Maccullum, . . i 

II. Alice Burns, 6 

III. The Assembly, 9 

IV. A Question, ....... 13 

V. The Answer, and the Bridal Day, . . . .16 

VI. Going Away, ....... 19 

VII. Glasgow, 26 

VIII. Willow Place, 28 

IX. Alice Finds Her Cross, 32 

X. The Working Man’s Retreat, .... 36 

XI. Good and Bad Angels, 41 

XII. Getting Strength, 44 

XIII. God, 48 

XIV. Alice Visits the Shop, 54 

XV. Going Right On — Saved, 59 

XVI. A Beggar at the Door, 65 

XVII. A Birth, . 69 

XVIII. Silent Conflict, . 73 

XIX. The Beggar Again, . . . . . .78 

XX. Peggie’s Fears, 81 

XXL The Children’s Helper, 83 

XXH. The Bank Book and Farewell, . . . . 87 

A Dying Mother’s Victory, ... 89 

XXHI. Disappointment, and a Night in the Ship-yard — Tom 

Dalton, ........ 92 

XXIV. Bob Indentured — Sails Away, .... 98 

XXV. Bob’s Return — His Story, 100 

XXVI. No More Sea — Joe Morgan, .... 104 


VI 


conti-nTs. 


CHAPTER. PAGi-. 

XXVII. John Macculliim Intercedes for Andy, . . iii 

XXVIII. Touching Scenes, 114 

XXIX. J'or a New Yvorld, . . . . . . 117 

XXX. Canada — Haldane, 124 

XXXI. Meetings — Elder Stimford — The Turning Point, 128 

XXXII. Andy Goes to College, 133 

XXXIII. Theological Course Discussed — Andy and Rachel 

Brewster, 139 

XXXIV. Peggie’^s Darling Amy — Edinburgh, . . . 148 

XXXV. First Settlement and the Wagon Party, . . .152 

XXXVI. A Splendid Effort and a Dark Cloud, . . 158 

XXXVII. Dick Brunton, ’ 166 

XXXVIII. Glasgow — Changes — Macdonald Breaks Do\vn — 

Sells Out, . . . . . . ^ -174 

XXXIX. Uncle Matt and Henry Selden, . . . . 179 


XL. The Sea — Montreal — Home in the V 7 ilderncss, . 185 

XLI. Revival of Religion at Basking Shore, . . 189 

XLH. A Long or a Short Pastorate, 193 

XLHI. Plard Times in the Parsonage, . . . . 212 

XLIV. Sight-Seeing, 223 

XLV. In the Wilderness, 235 

XLVI. Homeward Bound — JoeMorgan — A Warm Welcome, 243 
XLVH. Amy Burns and Tom Dalton, . . . . 255 

XLVIH. The Two Queens, . . . . . . . 263 

XLIX. Good News — Seeking a Pulpit, . . . 269 

L. Selden, or Dalton? 278 

LI. Selden’s Tour — Talk with Berkley — Billy Duval, 285 

LH. A Notable Visit, 299 

LHI. A Single Day, . .* 313 

LIV. Seeking an Heir, 323 

LV. Music and Song, 330 

LVI. Clouds Gone, . • . 340 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


CHAPTER I. 

ANDREW MACDONALD. 

NDREW MACDONALD kept a ‘‘Hat & Fur 



Shop’' on a busy street in the old city of Glas- 
gow, Scotland — a land renowned for gifted men and 
memorable deeds. Over the broad old doorway of 
the shop hung ^‘Macdonald cr* 0.”y but no one knew 
who the “ Co.” was. There was some mystery about 
the “ Co.” which time and events alone could unravel. 


“When fain to lean into the dark, 

And grope to feel the floor of the abyss, 


And still forever yawns before our eyes 
An UTMOST — that is veiled.” 


The physical man Macdonald was splendidly devel- 
oped — so well proportioned in all his parts, that height 
and breadth were really greater than they seemed; and 
thus his appearance and carriage attracted frequent 
attention. 


I 


2 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Intellectually he was above the average — had sharp 
natural sagacity, and unerring judgment in all matters 
pertaining to selfish, worldly afiairs. While others were 
hesitating he decided, and carried off easily the prize of 
profit. As to integrity in business, no fault was ever 
found by his customers — rather praise was given: hence 
the House ” bore an enviable reputation in the city, 
and in London, and on the . continent. 

As to the rest, he was unpopular, proud, cold and 
unbrotherly. The milk of human kindness ” flowed 
sluggishly, when it flowed at all. 

The authority in which he stood, and of which he 
seemed so proud, was not respected — only feared. He 
may have pledged money with his brother merchants 
to relieve the misery of some fire-swept, or plague- 
stricken city, but never noticed the pitiful gaunt faces 
all about him. The men in the factory, the clerks in 
the shop, the women and girls in the bindery, felt only 
the master^ and never the helpful friend. He did not 
good as he had opportunity.” Warm-hearted people 
walked around him, measured him, and disappointed, 
walked away. He was impertransible, and so a mys- 
tery to many. Whether he liked to see the same in 
others, he never said, but probably did not care; for 
he seemed regardless, where his personal interests were 
not affected. 

Religiously — in reverence and adoration — ^lie was very 
poor, and seemed like one who had given himself to 
carping speculation, and not to gratitude and love and 


ANDREW MACDONALD. 


3 


faith : whose god was a poor chained thing in his own 
impenetrable breast ; with whom he trifled, and strove 
to deceive. Great capacities he had, but they were all 
drilled to serve Macdonald, as the beginning and end 
of all things. A question was exhausted when he had 
concluded how it would aflect Mr, Macdonald! 

JOHN MACCULLUM. 

John was the foreman in shop and factory, and the 
very opposite of the master, Macdonald, in thought^ 
emotion and way — a man one is always glad to meet, 
at home, or on a journey, in joy or sorrow. He was 
greatly gifted with the “gift o’ common sense,” thor- 
oughly honest and practical, and always looking around 
to see what good he could do to-day. went about 

doing good,” John said. He was not very handsome 
as to feature, but his eye was friendly, his manner as- 
suring, and the grasp of his big brawny hand warmed 
and won you, for his heart throbbed in the ^Im. He 
was always agreeable and accessible to the very poor- 
est and most timid, and from boyhood got and held 
troops of friends. “Jesus died for the lowest,” he said. 

“Jack Maccullum,” as he was familiarly called by 
his companions, was the soul of honor, and sided with 
“justice and mercy,” according to the occasion. He had 
also inimitable humor, which made him a favorite story- 
teller. Clouds scudded away from him, as if in a panic 
The way he asked a favor secured it — for instance, 
when travelling along a country road, years before we 


4 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


meet him in the Glasgow shop, he stopped at a farm- 
house, introduced himself politely to the good wife, and 
said, Gude leddie, hae ye twa cows ?” 

‘‘What for d’ye ye ask that, sir?” replied the woman. 

“Weel,” said John, “if ye hae twa cows. I’ll tak 
a bowl o’ milk.” 

“Ye may hae twa bowls o’ milk, an bread an cheese 
i’ the bargain,” quickly responded the woman. 

“ An what may the name o’ the lassie be ?” he 
asked, as the girl brought the large bowl of fresh milk, 
and placed it in the stranger’s hands. 

“Peggie Dunbar, sir,” said Peggie. John held out 
his hand to Peggie, and she took it. One day some 
time after that, John told Peggie Dunbar that he loved 
her, and asked her to marry him. 

As a matter of course, having such admirable quali- 
ties, John was exceedingly popular in all the depart- 
ments of the “ Hat & Fur House.” The strong held 
him in^high honor, and the tempted, discouraged, beat- 
en-down, angry and wretched, found in him a refuge 
in their troubles, and a defender of their rights. He 
never acknowledged any man as lost and many came 
forth from the hospital and city prison to live better 
lives, with whom he had talked on the cot and in the 
cell. He knew more secrets than any man in Glas- 
gow — given in confidence to him, especially by those 
who had been suddenly overtaken by temptation, sin 
and the law. Many young lads, and some girls, did 
John save from ruin, and send back to their native 


ANDREW MACDONALD. 


S 


villages in the Highlands, or home on the moor, from 
whence in an evil hour they had wandered to the 
perilous city. 

As the years rolled by, it was no uncommon sight 
to see a fine-appearing man stop him in the street and 
say inquiringly, ‘‘Mr. John Maccullum ?” “Yes,” John 
would say ; “ an what for d’ye ask ?” 

And the reply would be, “I am James — and you 
saved me. There’s a home in the Highlands that bless- 
es your name every day.” When John’s wife and 
friends warned him against his prodigal kindness, he 
invariably replied, “ Inasmuch as ye hae done it untae 
one o’ the least o’ these ma brethren, ye hae done it 
untae me.” 

Andrew Macdonald’s only master was John Maccul- 
lum, his foreman ; and themselves only knew the reason 
why. 


/ 


CHAPTER II. 

ALICE BURNS. 

A lice burns was an only daughter of Richard 
and Alice Burns, of Edinburgh. Richard was a 
well-to-do linen merchant in the city, as was his father 
before him. The Burns were Scotch Presbyterians, and 
of that brave stock, who solemnly leagued and cov- 
enanted” for church independence and freedom of con- 
science, secured in 1689. 

Men and women of power have strong religious con- 
victions ; and so from the banks of the Geneva to the 
Highlands of Scotland, and to Plymouth Rock, such 
are foremost in those qualities which sustain the integrity 
of state, church, and family. Christian principles are the 
rock foundation of them all. Revolutions which gain 
and hold human rights, are Calviriistic, and never Robes- 
pierrian. These pure and robust convictions girded and 
beautified the house of Richard and Alice Burns. All 
things were open to the face of God, and His glory 
in approval blushed upon their way. James Arnot was 
their gifted minister and genial pastor, and a ‘Gvork- 
man that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing 
the word of truth; thoroughly furnished unto all good 
works ; and who from a child had known the Holy 
Scriptures.” 


ALICE BURNS. 


7 


In this atmosphere of loyalty to God and love of 
the pure, Alice Burns was bohi. She was not attract- 
ively beautiful, either in physical form or feature — not 
the fairy creature of the novel; but her divinely touched 
and tuned soul sent its gracious glow into eye, man- 
ner and voice. Alice Burns’ beauty never failed. 

“ She took no pains to make herself anew, 

With outward ornament.’’ 

Truth, trust and love, mellowed and brightened every 
feature. Alice was very thoughtful. Even now in girl- 
hood, she thought, felt, and did, far beyond her years ; 
and it was almost painful to see her assume so much 
responsibility, and feel so acutely the sorrows of others. 

More than I have said, was wise and gentle Alice 
Burns. But conclude not, kind reader, that she was one 
of those proverbial girls who are too good to live and 
so die early, and go to heaven — to make a Sunday- 
school book. She had no wings — had faults, "and felt 
them ; but in all the grand old city there lived not a 
more gleeful girl, nor one who entered with more zest 
into all the games of her companions. Not intending 
to lead, she led. Rich and poor forgot distinctions in the 
general joy ; and it was no unusual thing to see some 
poor timid little creature, who did not know there was a 
heaven until Alice Burns came to her, put a poor wilt- 
ed flower she had picked up in the alley, into the vel- 
vet band about the head of Alice. It was no trouble 
to her to serve — the grandest serve ! 

As the years passed by, Alice gained various knowl- 


8 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


edge. She wanted to know the" reason of the things 
she saw, and got to wondering what life was, and what 
she was to do with it. In time she knew — knew as 
fast as she could bear. 

Alice loved birds, and flowers, and the stars that 
brightened nightly the sky above the city. Years after- 
wards, lines of merit were found in the old portfolio. 

My reader can understand that pastor Amot was 
always glad to see the daughter of his friend Richard in 
the family pew. Hungry hearers make earnest preach- 
ers, and Arnot made hungry hearers in turn. He was 
so deeply learned, that he was able to speak so as 
never to be misunderstood. He said that he never felt 
prouder in his life, than when Bob, the weaver’s boy, 
told his invalid mother the whole drift of his sermon. 
The traces of his mental struggle were all lost in the 
abundant light which glowed from his simple, Anglo-Saxon 
words; and the girl understood him; and, through him 
and the Spirit — the Lord. He was the preacher for all 
times — strong, true, ‘‘ apt to teach,” and friendly. 

But even better than the preaching, Alice thought, 
were his conversations, in which the minister explained 
the points at issue in the great debates, and related the 
trials endured for the cause of God and liberty of con- 
science. This gave depth and force to her character, and 
held her heart reverentially to the Bible. This gave 
inspiration to her music — for Alice was a wonderful 
singer. She listened delighted to the cathedral bells, 
the trained singer, or the song of the street-boy. 


CHAPTER III 


THE ASSEMBLY. 

T he assembly was convened in the old kirk. 

Chalmers was to preach, and the house was crowd- 
ed. The scriptures were read, and a grave man pray- 
ed. A psalm was sung, and Alice Burns assisted, with 
sweet expression and effect. Venerable ministers felt a 
new depth and height, as they heard the moan of despair 
in the words, ‘‘ Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? ” 
and the shout of victory in the chant, ‘‘ Hope thou 
in God.” Andrew Macdonald was present. He had 
been in Edinburgh several days, and, at the house of a 
business friend, been introduced to Alice. Strong per- 
sonalities had met without revulsion, and the riddle of 
life deepened. He came to hear Chalmers — and Alice. 
Or was it Alice only ? 

As Alice’s voice died away, and that resting motion 
of falling back to normal conditions one sees when a 
congregation has been deeply moved by speech or song 
goes on, she shot a quick glance over the house, and 
met the respectful gaze of her friend Macdonald. Do 
we feel the unknown presence ? Is there a spirit that 
wanders* for its mate ? It was not only a look that 
received an unexpected return, but a new existence 
which fluttered into life ! Here is the beginning — what 


2 ^ 


LO 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


shall the end be ? God knows ! Andrew Macdonald 
owns the heart of Alice Burns forever, and admires her. 
His spirit is positive, and his bearing . manly. He will 
never comprehend Alice while she lives. She will him — 
but not now. His will is godless, and his heart a 
stranger to divine love. He knows nothing about soul 
victory ! Alice loves God — and Macdonald. Her idea 
of life is sacrificial, and she is willing to be bound on 
the ever-burning altar — which makes a great difference 
in character. He is subtle and refined for a purpose, 
and will not shock her tender sensibilities, dampen her 
zeal, nor oppose her religion. Macdonald is a gentle- 
man of the world. 

Chalmers preached. 

With eloquence innate his tongue was armed 

Sighting man's need, he pointed to Him “ clothed 
with a vesture dipped in blood," and crying, “ Hurt not 
the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have 
sealed the servants of God in their foreheads.” Hearts 
were thrilled, and made strong. God was in the place. 

Macdonald watched the effect of the great ideas upon 
the mind of Alice. Alice listened, and at times was 
her old self again, and then disturbed — turned toward 
him ; then turned away self-reproachingly — was thought- 
ful — and wondered why she cared. 

A few days after the above, James Bruce talked 
with Alice Burns, and this was the substance of their 
conversation : — 


THE ASSEMBLY. 


II 


“Alice, we have been true friends from our child- 
hood,” said James. 

“ Indeed we have,” said Alice ; “ and a very pleasant 
friendship it has been, is, and will be. I have said 
that you were my adopted brother.” 

“Our friendship is now pleasant, did you say ? ” 
said Bruce inquiringly. 

“ I did. I never prized it more highly than I do 
to-day. Surely we have not fallen out ! My esteem 
for you is very great,” said Alice. 

“ Alice Burns, is that pleasant which deeply disap- 
points ?” said James with warmth. 

“Disappoints! — I do not know what you mean, 
James Bruce. Have I mistaken the nature of our 
thought ? ”, said Alice earnestly. 

“To be frank,” said Bruce, “ I love you, Allie 
Burns! In my heart I am married to you. I had not 
thought that you could love another. I thought that 
Arnot would take our plighted love before the altar 
in the cathedral.” 

“ You never told me so, James,” said Alice. 

“ Never told you so, Alice ? Words are shallow, be- 
fore the love I feel for you. ‘Actions are louder’; and 
when you receive the addresses of Macdonald, you 
wrong me ! 

“ Who is this Macdonald ? Have I not been always 
kind ? Have I done one deed to make you or me 
blush ? Break away from that proud and disdainful 
man ! Here is my hand. Take^ it, and say you love 
me! Do it, Alice. You must! you will!” 


1 2 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Be calm, James Bruce; and above all, be just^" 
said Alice firmly, though her eyes were sad. I see that 
you have not understood me. Macdonald has not asked 
me for my hand. He has nothing to do with us; and 
had I never seen him, I still should say to you, I do 
not love you as you mean.” 

Am I unjust ? Why do you not love me as I 
mean?” said James, more calmly. 

‘‘ There is no explanation,” said Alice. I simply do 
not ; and in that I will not admit a wrong. If I do 
not, would you have me say I do ? Then indeed I 
should wrong you — bitterly wrong you!” 

Try me, Allie,” said James; ‘‘try me!” 

Then I should not be honest Alice Burns any 
more.” 

“ Can there be no pledge, Alice ? ” 

“Of friendship? Yes — lasting friendship,” replied 
Alice. 

“ Is this the end, then, Alice, of years of hope ? 
Surely some delusion has snared you ! ” 

“ The end, James, of that hope ; and I am sorry, 
somehow, for myself as well as you; though why, I 
cannot tell. Say not delusion — I am not weak.” 

Mr. Bruce walked away disappointed, but said to 
himself, “ Alice Burns is a noble, honest woman, and 
I will be a The delusion faded, and character 

grew. He needed this. Alice wondered more and 


more. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A QUESTION. 

ACDONALD was a stoic, and held himself 



above what he called weakness in word or tear. 


He applauded Chalmers’ genius, and was silent about 
his great ideas — admired Alice as he had never admir- 
ed a woman, but not what made her the woman that 
she was. He stood alone, the subject only of his own 
imperious will, and courted only another subject a 
slave of his thought! 

From within or without a shadow was on the man. 
Was it himself, or a guilty secret? Who was he? Had 
he ever belonged to anybody? Why was he the aver- 
sion of many, but the attraction of Alice ? He had 
mastered the theories of philosopher and sceptic in his 
studies against the Bible, and knew men ? Exteriorly, 
among strangers, he was a perfect gentleman ; and 
knowing, as he did, woman’s hunger for love, and ad- 
miration of superiority, he so stood before Alice Bums, 
and asked her hand in marriage, with no thought of 
refusal. 

The blood flew from Alice’s face, her lips were white 
as marble, and her hands folded as in prayer to Heav- 
en. In a few moments, however, this painful agitation 
ceased, and Alice calmly said, “Mr. Macdonald. I can- 


14 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


not reply to-day ; you must give me time. I do not 
know where I am — the Lord knoweth, and I shall 
ask Him.’^ 

‘‘ Cannot you ask your own mind now ? ” he said 
courteously. ^ 

Two months from to-day I will answer you here ! ' 

Macdonald received her reply gracefully, and con- 
sented in the same quiet manner in which he had 
asked his question. He understood her heart, and 
was wise. 

Conscious of his growing power, Macdonald yield- 
ed to every request of Alice — and this was a new ex- 
perience with him. He had not been used to this, 
and was so far better. They visited the galleries of Art — 
wandered about the beautiful old city — stood on his- 
toric ground, and recited to each other the brave deeds 
and sorrows of their ancestors; and on the * Sabbath 
heard pastor Duncan Arnot preach Christ’s rich grace. 

Arnot knew 

“ The soul^s dark cottage, battered and <iecayed, 

Lets in new light thro’ chinks which time has made,’’ 

and prayed God to shine within the soul of this man, 
for his and Alice’s happiness ! 

Two weeks passed pleasantly ,away, and Macdon- 
ald took the coach for Glasgow, saying to himself, I 
shall marry Alice Burns. She is an intellectual, hon- 
est-hearted women — so far well. As to her religious 

delusion, that will wear away in Glasgow. Arnot said 
many stray from the faith,” not thinking that then 


A QUESTION. 


15 


souls are free from tradition and “ old wives’ fables.” I 
have a prize, and love her better than I did another 
who had not her notions. We have struck the millen- 
nium of progress, thank the Fates!” 

Alice did not talk much, but thought — oh, how 
hard! — and then decided. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE ANSWER AND THE BRIDAL DAY. 

T WO MONTHS PASSED, and Macdonald knocked 
at the door of Richard Burns, and was warmly 
welcomed. 

Alice had accepted his hand, and he knew it as soon 
as he saw her. He must return to Glasgow, he said, 
in the morning; therefore the evening was spent in 
making arrangements for the marriage, to be celebrated 
in a fortnight, and in explaining to the good sorrowing 
but hopeful people his plans for Alice’s comfort — which 
was the thing they wanted. 

Gentle reader, are you dissatisfied ? You say Alice 
Burns will never marry Andrew Macdonald ! — it must 
not be ! But she will. Antipodal natures marry. Alice 
Burns will give herself to his imperial will, and reject 
the love of ordinary J ames Bruce ! 

Will you blame, or pity ? She will not allow you to 
do either. Her spirit gets the bruises of the storm, 
defies temptation, does wondrous good, and bears the 
cross to Calvary. The purposes and ways of divine pa- 
ternity, are inscrutable, and the best souls carry the woes 
of a dying world. 

Regrets and congratulations poured in upon Alice, 
and she had much to do. She must call on cherished 


THE ANSWER AND THE BRIDAL DAY. 


17 


friends — read God’s promises to blind old Mrs. Cairns — 
sit with poor little Will Matheson in ^he Hospital, whose 
limbs had been run over by the wheel of a dray. And 
when to these and others Alice said “ good by ! ” not 
one could say aword. They felt sore at heart. Alice 
had been a helper in times of need. 

Peggie Dunbar, a faithful friend and servant, would 
not be consoled. 

“ Master Richard,” she said, what for didna ye pit 
yer fit tae the door, or lock it ? That Macdonald’s coom 
fra a nest o’ theeves ; an as ye didna lock the door, he’s 
taen our lassie, wha’s bonny face an gleesome hairt hae 
been the licht o’ oor hame for mair than twenty years. 
I feel it awfu keen, sir ! an I’d pawn ma auld body to 
the saxton, could I brak the bans. My bluid is up, if I 
do greet sae sair, an I wish God had let him droon, an 
he hadna come back when the boat coupt, an he went 
doon i’ the sea; which John Maccullum told me, the 
mon wha helpt him oot — (ma secret. Master Richard; for 
ye ken he tell’t me I mustna tell it ony mair) — an I 
wish Maccullum had left Macdonald i’ the water, that 
he suldna see the lichts o’ Glasgow mair. Aweell ! aweell 1 
the Lord protect the lassie! I canna tell His way, but 
I’m thinking Alice ’ll sune lie doon an dee! Peggie 
kens the lassie — I hae seen the sign!” 

Meeting Alice, Peggie threw her arms around her 
neck, and sobbing said, “ Alice, why gang wi’ the mon ? 
The hoose ’ll be afflicted a’taegither. Why culdna ye 
gie your hairt to Jamie Bruce, wha never taks his een 


l8 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

aff ye, an wha is a true mon ? Hae na ye observed 
him ? D’ye ken why ye gang to Glasgow ? Alas ! ma 
lassie ! ” — and Peggie buried her wet face in her apron, 
and sobbed out, we can na hae it ! we canna hae it !” 

Alice was touched by this demonstration of Peggie’s 
love, and wiping the tears away from her own eyes, said, 
‘‘Come and see me, dear Peggie, down in Glasgow, when 
I am there; and carry me henceforth in your heart, as 
you have done till now, and all will be right.” 

Alice gave the woman a plain gold ring, kissed her, 
went to her room, and asked the Lord to tell her what 
she did not know. After Alice had gone, Peggie look- 
ed at the ring and said, “ I dinna want the ring ; I 
want ma ain lassie. What for suld I want a parting 
ring ? ” 

Duncan Arnot took the plighted love of Andrew 
Macdonald and Alice Burns, before the holy altar of 
the kirk ; and pleaded with the Lord for. them, as one 
pleadeth for his children. 



CHAPTER VI, 


GOING AWAY. 


OING AWAY are sad words, and tell of absence 



and of long waiting for tidings or return. But 


we must go on and on, in a straight line, now and 
forever, although hearts break and life wastes. The 
grandest life is inscrutable, and we are poor judges. 
Jealousy and treachery sent Joseph away; but it was 
best that he go away, even though thus he went for 
Egypt, and for Jacob. Our Lord said, ‘‘ It is expedient 
for you that I go away; for if I go not away, the 
Comforter will not come.” He went away, and carried 
‘‘captivity captive” with him, and the Comforter came. 
There are tears when the stage-coach rolls away 
tears on the dock and on the deck, when the proud 
ship sails— but there is also a grand inspiration. Pro- 
gress, growth, discovery, pleasure, power, are contin- 
gent upon going away. We must go from our little to 
g, larger self. Character will be rounded out like a 
circle, every point of whose circumference is equally 
distant from the centre, by knowing and enduring and 
overcoming all things, if one does not go away from 
God, truth, purity and love. Strong men grow in the 
frigid zone, more than in the tropics. Hardship is better 


20 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


than luxury, and a peril that arouses is better than a 
safety that benumbs. 

Andrew and Alice Macdonald went away together. 
Alice had never been away; her husband had, and that 
made a difference. Edinburgh was Alice’s world — her 
beautiful world; while one place was as good as another 
to Macdonald. To him there was little that was new. 

The morning was clear and beautiful, and the jolly 
driver soon left the pavements of the city behind him, 
and reached the fine, fertile fields. The view was 
charming — of meadow and barley-field, and grazing 
cattle — and the air fragrant with hedge-flowers, and 
honeysuckle climbing over the cottage porch. 

Macdonald had seen all this and more, in his travels, 
and lapsed into his usual brooding mood; but Alice’s 
soul was thrilled with pleasure. Away from the narrow 
streets of the city, she felt a new liberty, and a new 
breadth of outward and inward view. Her sensitive soul 
rang with praise. But at length, finding no adequate 
response to her ardent exclamations, she began to mor- 
alize, wander and wonder. Poor child! she has got to 
learn that she must enjoy God and his works oftener 
than otherwise, for herself alone — as all of us do. 

This is an old lumbering stage-coach. The steam 
engine and stieel track are not yet made, but the time 
has come. Soon the old coach will crumble away in 
the old inn yard, and the mighty engine go thunder- 
ing along to Glasgow. 

Do you wish to study human nature ? Let us then 


GOING AWAY. 


21 


go inside the coach, where the discomforts and sudden 
events bring out, as the drawing-room does not, the 
peculiar dispositions of men and women. 

Opposite Macdonald and \\ice sit a rich man and 
his wife. They are only rich; which is poverty of the 
worst description, of manners, knowledge and emotion. 
A boot-black in the city called the man a Jew,’’ and 
the overworked dress-maker called the woman a “ vice.’* 

Near the rich couple sat a wag, whose sly facial 
thrusts convulsed the other passengers with laughter. 
Nothing is more amusing. 

Near the wag sat a man of great culture by books 
and travel, and his manner and voice and words were 
kindled with human friendliness. He was an attrac- 
tion no one of generous mind could or would wish 
to resist — one of those mgi who give Scotland renown, 
by brave and tender sympathy with the common classes. 
For them he struck at all arbitrary and unequal laws. 
For them he smote injustice without mercy, with voice, 
and especially J>en — in court, parliament, church, school, 
factory and prison; and by his strong, eloquent, sarcastic 
efforts, many a wrong was righted. 

He studied Macdonald, and met with a difficulty. 
Had he met the man in some other land ? He has 
a suspicion, which he keeps for the ^sake of the woman 
by his side, whom he understands, so artless and 
outacting is she. 

In a general way the learned and earnest scholar 
engaged the attention of the passengers, by history and 


2 2 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Story, until Alice forgot that she was in an old stage- 
coach bound for Glasgow.- Suddenly, however, she re- 
covered her usual self, and turning to Macdonald said : 
“ Husband, how far away are we from home ?” 

Macdonald raised his head as if from slumber, looked 
out upon the bright hills, and the stone roofs of a dis- 
tant village, and replied, “ About twenty miles, I think.’' 

In one of the corners under the driver sat a spec- 
tacled old lady, who never for one moment had lost 
her eccentricities since she was born. Her cap-box 
was on her lap, and her gift snuff-box firmly held in 
her left hand, ever handy, as was her nose. Good 
honest woman, she did her best with her own mon ” 
in his day, and bade him, one sad hour, God speed 
to heaven ; ” and now she is as faithful with “ Bill,” 
her brawny batchelor son ; and tells him “ he maun 
hae a wedding sune, for he’ll na hae his mither lang.” 

lA her talk to herself she said, “ I’d like to -gie 
thae fine folk a piece o’ ma mind, and that monkey 
ma snuff; an as for the rest o’ them, wi’ their wonder- 
ings and beautifa’s, I dinna begrudge their larnen, if 
they ken the ^ Gude Book,’ and love God ; but I ken 
mony fine words screen the blackguard.” Her sharp eyes 
flashed ! 

With this defensive remark the old lady cried to 
the driver, Sandy ! Sandy !” 

Weel, auld woman, what noo ?” 

How far ish tae Glasge ?” 

“ Oh, a lang way off,” said Sandy. 


GOING AWAY. 


23 


'‘Oh, a lang way off! — it’s a cup o’ tea I want,” 
said she. 

"Weel, ye shall hae if sune, auld woman. Tak a 
little snuff, for a spell.” 

"None o’ that, noo, Sandy, tae an auld ladee — or I’ll 
bless ye as I hae blest ma Bill, mony a time I ” 

Mr. Joseph Brown, as he liked to be called — an 
English coachman — sat on the box with his friend Sandy. 

"Sandy,” said Brown, "what folks have you stowed 
hinside ? ” 

" Dinna ken. Brown, abopt em, but tha’s twa sacks 
o’ goold, an na hairt ; an a mon, God bless him, wha 
kens coach -boys; an a mon (may he droon i’ the Clyde) 
wi’ a bonny lassie he’s taen fra Edinburgh, puir thing — ^ 
the licht o’ the hame, an the kirk; an a clown, an a 
sharp auld mother, wha wants a cup o’ tea, and to gie 
the man wi’ the lassie twa black een.” 

" Uncommon coach full, Sandy,” said Brown. " Now 
if I druv them ’osses, and ’adn’t Maria in London, and 
didn’t drive the Red Mail to Redden, I’d draw the linch- 
pin; and I be’ant a persecutin, but I’m a looking out for 
justice! Now my Maria, she says, says she — a laugh- 
ing all the while — 'Justice! indeed! Brown,’ says she, 
'and you brings home to your poor wife only ’alf a sov- 
ereign a week, and its all on account of the Ossle/^s Inn' 
Not werry polite she says that, I can tell ’e, ’Sandy. Ah 
me! since she tumbled over to them ’totallers, she’s a 
thorn — a hedge thorn — and does that which is interferin 
with the ' Constitution ’ and ' Charters ’ in takin re- 


24 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


freshments, to stand the chills in the winter, and sun 
blazes in summer, on the road to Redden. Blast the 
’totallers! Them be my hideas, Sandy, as you knows 
when ” — 

‘‘ Haud yer tongue. Brown ! ” said Sandy, interrupting. 

Blow ma horn noo — here is Lithgow ! 

Sandy cracked his. whip, and drove rapidly up to 
the door of the village inn, with the expression glowing 
in his face, Do better nor that, if you can ! ” 

While the mail-bags and horses were being changed, 
the passengers alighted and lunched, and the old lady 
got her cup of tea, and was satisfied. 

Pat Mulligan, who was lounging around, saw Brown 
up on the box, eating his bread and cheese, and sang 
out, ^‘Johnny Bull!” 

What, Pat ? ” said Brown. 

‘‘ What’s it yer doin ayten yer dinner outside ? 
Come in, and be after ayten yer dinner like a gintle- 
man, inside.” 

Brown sprang down from the box and said, rather 
warmly, “ Where would I be eatin my dinner, but hm- 
side, where ye does yersel, ye grat stupid? — by the 
looks of ye ! ” 

“By the looks of yez!” retorted Pat. “Bad luck 
to yez! and if I had’nt more dishtance between me 
head and me fut than yez, I’d get meself stretched^ 

“ Beg pardon, Pat — but it’s my country that’s grat- 
ter than your’n.” 

For some time this badinage against each other’s lands 


GOING AWAY. 


25 


went on, when Sandy turned the^ reproaches of both on 
himself, by saying D’ye ken, men, ye’re baith wrang. 
Scotland’s the bonny land in a’ things ! Dinna ye boast 
sae muckle. Ye’d be a puir lot, hadna ye Scotland 
at the top o’ baith o’ ye, for brains, as weel as ge- 
ography !” 

The coach-horn was blown, all were reseated, Sandy 
gathered up the lines, cracked his whip, and the old 
coach, raising a cloud of dust, rumbled down the road 
that led to Glasgow. ‘ 


2 


CHAPTER VII. 


GT, A SGOW. 

“ Summer ebbs ; each day that follows 
Is a reflex from on high, 

Tending to the darksome hollows 
Where the frosts of winter lie.” 

B y reason of a break-down, which de- 
tained our travelers several hours on the way, 
the Tron Kirk steeple-clock struck twelve, as Sandy 
drove his coach, filled with weary, sleepy people, into 
the great street of the city of Glasgow. Glazed-hatted 
policemen wearily paced their beat — late parties were 
going home, quietly or noisily, according as they were 
sober or drunk. In the shadow of the Tontine a mur- 
derous villain skulks, eyeing the policeman, while his 
confederates perpetrate some bloody crime that will 
shock the whole city in the morning. In a West End 
mansion a great lawyer was dying, surrounded by pow- 
erful friends ; while under yonder high old gables, 
whence faintly glimmers the light of a tallow candle, 
placed in a bottle, a woman yet young — but oh ! so 
haggard! — is in the agonies of wretched death, surround- 
ed by brutal men and women. 

Alas I what brutalities^ self-cursings, agony, longings 
for a morning that will not dawn in this world, heart- 


GLASGOW. 


27 


breakings, hopeless struggles, are known and felt under 
the glare, pomp and rattle of a great city’s life ! 

“ Cities of proud hotels ; 

Houses of poor and great ; 

Woe nestles in your chambers, 

Beneath your roofs of slate.” 

At this solemn hour, and desolate to a stranger, our 
weary travelers alighted at the steps of an inn. It 
was too late to go elsewhere, and so all remained 
until morning. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


WILLOW PLAICE. 

D uring the time between the acceptance 
and the marriage, Macdonald tidied Willow 
Place, and put it in charge of Jeanie Butler. 

In the morning Macdonald said, ‘‘ Now Alice, we 
will go to our home.” They stepped into a carriage, 
and the coachman drove rapidly away. Alice soon 
saw that they had passed the business streets and 
entered a quiet neighborhood. Before a house on a 
secluded street the carriage stopped, and good faithful 
Jeanie Butler met the party at the door, and curtsied 
respectfully to her new mistress, as she passed in. 

Willow Place was a large gothic mansion, and old, 
very old. Servants' and children believed it to be 
haunted ; and startling stories were told of lights flash- 
ing from the gable windows — of unearthly sounds 
rolling forth from the deserted halls, of great angry 
eyes staring from the window in the tower, by the 
narrow stairway. It was said that the ghosts, one 
wild winter’s night, had a ball; and that there was the 
wildest revelry — so that people were aroused from 
their slumbers, a mile away. Some said that they heard 
the music and the shuffling of the feet of the wild dan- 
cers, and saw the whole building in an instant as if on 



WILLOW PLACE. 














L 


WILLOW PLACE. 


29 


fire in all parts, spitting flame from every window, and 
shooting rockets from the- tower — and then as suddenly 
buried in frightful darkness, and shaken by deafening 
thunder, while pandemonium reigned within, of yells, 
and jeers, and curses, and breaking of glasses, and 
pictures and tables! It was reported and believed for 
miles away that no one had been able to live in the 
house for more than a single night, as their slum- 
bers were broken by stealthy steps and whisperings 
on the stairway and in the room where two portraits 
hung. Some wise ones, in attempting an explanation of 
these strange things, said they referred to something that 
was past; others suggested that they prophesied things 
to come. 

But AVillow Place, to the staid eye, was simply a 
large old deserted house. Before, and on the sides of 
it, were great elms and willows, whose long branches 
brushed the pediments and cornices of the roof, whose 
thrashings and seeming wailings on stormy nights, were 
truly dismal. The old walls were covered, and narrow 
windows blinded, by rank growths of ivy; and the gar- 
den was filled with overgrown shrubbery, and decayed 
arbors. 

For an impression of the inside of this old place, 
my reader will follow Alice and Jeanie on a tour of 
inspection, which took place soon after the arrival of 
Alice. 

Beginning at the cellars, they found them to be 
( lose and mouldy and heavy walled — with two secret 


30 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


passages. From thence they passed to the kitchen and^ 
pantries — large, and well supplied. 

Is anything needed here ? ” asked Alice. 

‘"Naething,” replied Jeanie, “but tha’s gettin’ auld.” 

The great dining hall was finished in solid oak in all 
things, and the walls were hung with pictures of game 
and fruit. The parlors were rich in elaborate carvings 
in marble and wood, and the curtains and movable 
furniture were heavy, and of antique pattern, covered 
with dust, and in much disorder. On these walls were 
hung pictures of the “ Border Wars,” Scotch Parliaments, 
and of Bruce, Wallace, and others. 

On the second floor were many rooms, large and 
small, all furnished in the same olden style. In oue 
of them hung two pictures, so life-like as to rivet 
Alice’s attention. One was a woman’s. The face 
indicated a high order of mental gifts — was beautiful, 
but very sad, and touched by the mellow light of faith. 
The other was a man’s portrait, and indicated pride, 
tinged with disdain in ^ conflict with easy-going desire. 
He had been a man dangerous as an enemy, and 
strong as a partizan, and had doubtless risked his 
head and fortune for the independence of the Scotch 
throne. 

Having seen and marvelled over many things we 
cannot now describe, the two entered the observatory, 
and a scene of remarkable beauty burst upon them. 
Yonder rolled the Clyde; and beyond it the busy city 
spread. On either side were green fields and gardens; 


WILLOW PLACE. 


31 

and far along the river spread the nets from the little 
houses of the fishermen. 

“You can go, Jeanie,” said Alice. 

Jeanie obeyed, saying to herself, “ He kens best a’ 
this wha kens,” and humming, 

“ My banes are buried in yon kirk-yard, 

Sae far ayont the sea ; 

An its but my blithsome ghaist 
What’s speaking now to thee.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


ALICE FINDS HER CROSS. 

A lice MACDONALD immediately and resolute- 
ly gave her mind to house-keeping. Her idea 
was a Jiouie and she knew that she was sent to be 
it, and so to make it. She had . grown up in a home 
where false pride and vain display were unknown — one 
made bright and strong with the best qualities; there- 
fore she was intelligent by its clear thought, chastened 
by its sorrows, tranquilized by its order and peace, in- 
spired by its hope, certain of victory by its trust in 
God, and refined and sympathetic by its deathless love. 
Bright and honored names come from such homes ; 
and they who build them are benefactors of their race. 

Month after month wore on, and Willow Place’s 
sombre features gave way before the cheerful touch 
and refined taste of the earnest woman, and she be- 
gan to feel that she was succeeding tolerably well in 
her new sphere, but often hungered for the helps of 
ILdinburgh. There was no one to talk to ! She felt 
pressed upon by mysteries, whose weird whisperings 
frightened her timid Jieart. . . . Whose had been the old 
mansion? Of whom were the portraits? Were they 
the original owners of the estate ? And why did not 
Macdonald tell her? He did not; and Alice felt that 


ALICE FINDS HER CROSS. 


33 


she must not ask him, and was astonished at her 
timidity. It was a new experience, this restraint, where 
perfect liberty had been her pleasure — this turning in- 
wardly upon herself for answers — this strange fear of 
the outward. . . . And life deepened! 

In intense distress she said, ^^I will know my hus- 
band’s thought of God — I must know that.” And his 
thought of God she got I Alas ! for Alice, such a 
thought it was ! 

One afternoon soon after the resolution, Macdonald 
proposed a walk. Alice gladly consented, and the two 
crossed the river and strolled along a quiet street^ 
until they found themselves in the shade of a plain 
old house of worship, and gazing admiringly upon its 
fine proportions and heavy shields of ivy. 

‘^What people worship the Lord here, Andrew, in 
this kindly-looking old place ?” said Alice. 

^^Your own people,” replied Macdonald quite em- 
phatically, implying not mine. 

‘‘Will you bring me here ? I want to know the 
people so much I They will help me to love Glas- 
gow,” pleaded Alice. 

“ I will,” he replied more tenderly. Macdonald 
hired a pew in a very pleasant part of the house, and 
on the following Sabbath accompanied his happy and 
worthy wife to the service. 

As they entered the house Alice thought, “It 

is all right now ! God leads me. ‘ The ever-blessed 

God and Father of our Lord.’ I shall have a sign 
2 # 


34 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


of His favor to-day — I know I ^ shall I ‘ How goodly 
are thy tents, O Jacob; and thy tabernacles, O Is- 
rael ! He shall pour the water out of His buck- 

ets,’ and I shall drink.” 

Xhe preacher resembled Thomas Guthrie in build, 
knowledge, goodness, kindness, and eloquence; and by 
that honored name we will know him. This day he 
preached on God’s Attributes, aad ‘‘ Show me Thy 
glory” was his text. The sermon cannot be reproduced. 
Sermons really great seldom can be, for evident reasons; 
but the people had a grander and richer thought 
of God: and when the closing psalm was sung — The 
Lord is my shepherd ” — the clear, melodious voice of 
Alice warbled her joy. She said, ‘‘The night cometh, 
and also the morning.” 

That evening Alice said, “Andrew, what do you 
think of Mr. Guthrie’s sermon ? 

Bitterly he replied : “ It is all a very fine theory — 
splendidly presented, I confess — but there is no God, 
I, at least, do not believe in any. Excuse me, Alice, 
if I seem severe; but I assure you I am severe only 
against great delusions, and those who teach them, and 
lead the unreasoning people astray. I feel sure that 
scientific inquiry and discovery will yet explode the 
doctrines of the ministers, and drive them from their 
position.” 

Sometimes, in incomprehensible human life, a cloud 
no larger than a man’s hand, as seen in the distance, 
suddenly enlarges, and overspreads the sky, not to sus- 


ALICE FINDS HER CROSS. 


35 


tain with gentle cherishing drops , like the prophet’s, 
but charged with thunder-bolts, which plunge down to 
wound and destroy. Had Macdonald said, in despond- 
ency, “ Alice, I am a wretched bankrupt, and we must 
leave Willow Place to-morrow,” her heart had been 
thrilled with joy, in comparison. But as it was, her 
cheek grew bloodless, her heart fluttered, and even her 
hold on her God for a moment loosened. The bolt 
went crashing through brain and heart, shivering her 
promise and killing her comfort and strength. Bewild- 
ered, she sank back in her chair, and her smitten soul 
echoed the spirit of the cry of woe from her Lord — 
‘‘ Eloi, Eloi, lama, Sabachthani ! ” 

“ An exaggerated statement ! ” cry some. Ves, to 
some it is; but to the God-loving and adoring soul of 
Alice Macdonald, who for the first time felt the full 
force of intellectual antagonism to her earnest faith, and 
in her own house, it was crucial. Like others, she 
will rally from the blow, and view with mare compo- 
sure, though with no less abhorrence, the bold or in- 
sidious efforts of men to undermine Christianity; and 
then, too, she will have a more intelligent conviction, 
not only that there is a God, but that He has placed 
the moral government of the universe on the shoulders 
of His SojL — her Saviour. 

Macdonald quietly, and not in a happy mood, left 
the room, rather regretting the useless disturbance of 
his peace; .... and the Lord spake to Alice. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE WORKING MAN*S RETREAT. 

I T WAS A WHISKEY SHOP, and two sailors sat 
at the round-table in the rear room, earnestly 
talking over their cups. 

Sea-port towns are cursed by “ Retreats,” Harbors,” 
and “ Shades.” The sale of liquor is enOrmous, and 
the outcome of misery frightful. Of all casual callers, 
none suffer more than sailors, in morals and purse. Freed 
from the ship’s restraint, they yield to unbridled license; 
and the bravest and most generous-hearted men in the 
world are thus brought low. God bless the Bethel 
Toilers ” by the sea, and those who go down into the 
horrid deeps of the city to save ! 

These sailors by the round-table are not vicious at 
heart, as yet; but they are creatures of habit — money- 
less — and must have whiskey ; and one of them knows 
a way to get it. 

^‘Dennis Mulligan!” said Bill Perkins — Mr. Dennis 
Mulligan, holding the full cup to his lips — ‘‘Dennis, I’m 
a lookin in your eyes now. Messmate, ’eres to the 
’ealth o’ Glasgow, Molley ’Owden, and the money o^ 
Andy Macdonald ! ” 

“ Faith ! ” says Dennis, “ and who’s the Macdonald ? ” 


THE WORKING MAN’S RETREAT. 


37 


Thereby hangs a tale !” replied Bill, with a know- 
ing wink. 

“ And what will yez be afther sayin of the man ? ” 
asked Dennis, raising his drunken eyelids. 

I be’ant goin to tell all I knows, Dennis,” said Bill; 
“but I works for my livin; and when I sees a man put- 
tin on ’hairs, who might be in old Bill’s place, and be 
no worse, I says to myself, ^ Blast em ! prick the 
bladder, old Bill, and make ’em treat. ” 

“ Whist ! bad luck to yez, tell your yarn,” grumbled 
Dennis. 

“ Beg pardon, shipmate,” said Bill more tenderly. 
“It was the year my old mother dropped anchor. She 
was the best ’oman the Lord ever made, and that worked 
her passage over the sea of life, as the parson calls it, 
to glory. Look at me now, Dennis. I’m her son, I be’s; 
and I ’ad been with the devil to-day, but for her — for 
her^ I say, Dennis.” 

“ And are yez clear from the devil now. Bill ? ” 
said Dennis, interrupting. “Holy Mary! are yez shure?” 

“ And out of respect for her memory. I’ll yet swear 
off the mug,” continued Bill. 

“ Holy Mary ! yez a cryin’, Bill,” said -Dennis. 

“Well, I be’ant ashamed to blubber,” said Bill, “when 
I think of the old gray ’ead, and her kind ’and on my 
’ead, and of her droppin’ hanchor.” Bill choked 
up, and drew his hand across his eyes. 

“ Well, I was agoin’ to say, then I shipped for old 
Hingland! — ‘ H ingland, with all thy faults, I love thee 
still 1 ’ ” 


38 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘‘Aye,” said ].)ennis, “and all her faults^ loikwise ; 
from St. Thomas in the Clipper-Crescent, to look after 
my last will and testament. And it’s the Holy Teste- 
ment^ sure, ye’d better be lookin’ afther,” said - Dennis, 
ironically. 

“And a lot of land-lubbers was cornin’ home — and 
a beautiful lady goin’ in consumption, and her parents, 
and a man they called Macdonald — a cuss who cared 
for nobody but the young ’oman and ’isself ; and 

’ticularly ’isself” 

“ Look at the clock. Bill ! Sure it’s afther eleven,’’ 
said Dennis. 

“ Well, we ’ad a good passage till we sighted 

Ireland, when it blowed grat guns; and before morn- 
ing watch Ave struck the rocks, and there was a 

wail and scramble for life ; and when I got ashore 

there was only ten out of sixty I — the Cap, me, three 
messmates, three Londoners, Macdonald, and a man 
they called Maccullum. And when Macdonald jumped 
from the boat, drippin’ with water, I seed a bunch of 
papers sticking out of his pocket, that never was there 
afore ! ” 

“ Whist ! ” said Dennis, “ and that’s a ’spicion that’s 
got gould in it, if ye manage the craythur wi discree- 
tion — do yez mind?” 

“And, Dennis, as I was sailing along ’igh street, I 
met Andy, 1 did, and touched my tarpaulin to ’im, I did; 
and he never knowed me, blast ’im ! and now we’ll 
make ’im know us as knows ’im I see if we don’t ! 


THE WORKING MAN’S RETREAT. 39 

‘‘ Comcj my Beauty,” cried Bill to the barmaid; 
‘‘ come, let’s have another gill of whiskey. ” 

Molly Howden, the barmaid, who had been listen- 

ing to this talk, brought the gill measure, and as she 
placed it on the table, looked straight into the eyes of 
Bill, and said angrily, Bill Perkins, v/hat’s that ye’re 

blabbin ! The de’il hae ye ! What for suld ye trooble 

the mon Macdonald ? I ken he’ll stan the licht o’ 
day as weel as yersel ! What for suld he tak notice 

o’ ye ? Hae ye done him ony favor ? Suld ye bring 
his bluid. I’ll stan against ye i’ the coort, an I’ll tell 

ilkabody o’ yer conspiracy, an I’ll na lee for ye, I 
dinna ken a’ ye ‘ may ken, but I ken this — Macdonald 
moinds his ain business weel, an pays the men their 

siller ; an muckle o’ it they spen i’ the ‘ Retreat.’ Lat 
him alane I D’ye ye hear, noo. Bill Perkins ? an be 
carefu how gie yer han tae Bill, ye Irish blackguard!” 

The woman, now thoroughly aroused and jealous 
of her rights, struck the table passionately, and walked 
rapidly behind the bar. 

The men said no more, rose, and went into the 

street known as the Bromielaw, and silently passed along 
up the Clyde. They crossed the river, and struck out 

in the direction of “ Willow Place.” On reaching 
a pile of boards, they crouched down behind them, 
and waited. Bill had well timed his movements. In 
a few moments Macdonald, with a firm step passed by, 
closely wrapped in a heavy cloak, for the night was 
chilly. 


40 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Sliding out of their hiding-place, the men came up 
with Macdonald, and Bill gently touched him on the 
arm. Macdonald faced the sailors and said, with a curse, 
‘‘You wicked villains, will you rob me?'’' 

“ Hah ! hah ! master Macdonald,” said Bill, ironically, 
“ don’t you know me ? I bean’t a cojujiioii thief. ’Ave 
ye forgot the ‘ wreck,’ and Bill Perkins ? Where be the 
papers, Andy? I’ll not ’arm ye; but where be the pa- 
pers? I’m deuced dry — hot dry — and the night’s cold. 
Be quick now ! if ye’ve no objections.” 

Macdonald handed Bill ten guineas, turned contempt- 
uously away, and went on through the gloom to his 
mysterious house. Bill and Dennis hastened back to the 
“ Retreat,” and the money went into its till. 

“ By my sowl, ye did it well. Bill,” said Dennis, 
lifting the whiskey to his lips. 

“ Did I, Dennis?” said Bill. But I’m a thinking- the 
old ’oman in glory is saying, “Ye’re a wicked boy, my 


son. 


CHAPTER XL 


GOOD AND BAD ANGELS. 



CDONALD TOLD ALICE that he was a 


member of a Club of Freethinkers/’ in Glasgow, 


whose meetings were held on Sunday. He said that pro- 
gressive thought was divorcing itself from Hebrew bonds, 
and growing out of the swaddling clothes of superstition. 
If she so willed she might have her church, but he would 
bave his club.” 

Alice felt sore at heart. Thick clouds charged with 
trouble settled down upon her, and in the flash of the 
knowledge of his skepticism she saw the bold outlines 
of he? cross. As a wife she felt and knew that neither 
minister nor elder, nor Peggie, nor Jeanie, might intrude. 
Noble Alice Macdonald ! But she was not alone. 
Comfort came from Edinburgh and Heaven; and she re- 
solved to trust in God, uid be a Christian woman and 
wife. 

Affection needs no answer to its questions. It reads 
with eyes of intuition. Was Macdonald troubled ? Alice 
gave a wordless soothing. On the morning after the 
midnight encounter with Bill Perkins and Dennis Mulli- 
gan, she saw that he was mentally distressed, and said, 
“ Andrew, you vverc lat^ at the counting-house last nigiit. 


42 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Why this worn look ? Have you met with some 
reverse? Rest on the settle in the arbor, dear, while I 
read frpm a new book, published at Edinburgh, entitled 
‘The Valley of Achor, the Door of Hope/’* 

He laid down, put his hands to his head, and listen- 
ed; whether to her delightful reading, or the ideas the 
book contained, Alice could not tell. 

When Macdonald rose to go, he was strangely 
agitated. “Alice ! ” he said, “ we have never been wed- 
ded, or are growing apart. I do not comprehend 
you, but I ask pardon for the ungentlemanly way in 
which I replied to your question, ‘ How did you like 
the sermon?’ Next Sunday afternoon I will talk with 
you about God.” 

Macdonald went to the shop, and the good angel 
left him at the door, the moment his eye caught the 
sign above it, “ Macdonald 6^ O.” 

As he came in, the salesmen saw with alarm that a 
terrible storm was brewing. Angrily he pointed out 
to the bookkeeper a blunder, discovered the night before, 
and threatened dismissal without a “character.’ He 
threw his distempered eye at the salesmen, and belit- 
tled their work. Went to the trimming room ; hurled 
harsh words at the poor binders, and was especially 
bitter toward a gray-haired widow who was late . that 
morning, from watching all night by* the bedside of a 
dying girl. The woman was no coward, and sharply 
replied, “ D’ye ken, sir ! a just God is above, wha’ll 
measure ye wi’ His plummit line, an wha kens ye 


GOOD AND BAD ANGELS. 


43 


a’ taegither, an wha talc’s care o’ the widow an the fa- 
therless ? There canna he wrang din, an God no 
ken:’» 

‘‘God!” — said he angrily — “there is no God!” 

The men at the kettles he charged with laziness, 
and flung roughly out of his way Jamie the cripple, the 
son of the foreman. 

Maccullum’s ' eyes shot fire ! “Andrew Macdonald,” 
he said, “what for d’ye sae ? Ye’ll pit ye’r fit in’t 
ance too aft’n. Ye ken verra weel that I ken a’; an 
I’ll tell it abroad, if ye come doon sae hard on a’ the 
men, an on the puir laddie, ma son.” Hearing Jamie’s 
sob,, just then, he warmly added, “ If ye hurt the laddie, 
111 knock ye doon, sir!” 

Macdonald left the workshop, angry and discomfited. 


CHAPTER XII. 


GETTING STRENGTH. 


“ When adverse winds and waves arise, 

And in my heart despondence sighs ; 

When life its throng of care reveals, 

And weakness o’er my spirit steals ; 

Grateful I hear the kind decree. 

That * as thy day, thy strength shall be.’ ” 



S WE GO ON, and become more loaded, we 


must ^ef more strength, or fall and fail. 


Whither shall we go ? To whom fly ? Certainly beyond 
all human resources. Men of genius despond, and 
that strange flame dies, and leaves us in the dark. 
Eloquence charms, but cannot heal ; friendship grows 
weary, and few are the clouds that gold can shine 
away. Only God is strength, and He is love. 

Alice Macdonald’s heart was sad, and, having read 
from her Guide-book, “ I was glad when they said unto 
me, let us go into the house of the Lord,” she took 
faithful Jeanie and went to the kirk, to get strength from 
her God. Pastor Thomas Guthrie was in the pulpit, and 
Alice was glad; for he knew the Lord’s flocks, and how 
hungry they were for His green pastures.” Tenderly 
as a father pleadeth for his children, he pleaded the 


GETTING STRENGTH. 


4S 

meritorious sacrifice and written promise, as he held up 
before God the pained and breaking hearts before him. 
It was a beautiful and impressive scene that Sunday- 
morning, when the good man prayed; and before he got 
through, help came to many souls. Many prayers are 
answered to-day. God does not wait so long as many 
think. 

“ Cast your care upon the Lord, for He careth for 
you,” was the good man’s text. “ I will talk to you,” he 
said, ‘‘about the particular providence of our great Fa- 
ther ; ” and as he went on to show how tender and 
minute His care of His people was ; and as he made 
the doctrine sing with Jesus’ “ birds of the air,” and 
blossom with Jesus’ “flowers of the field,” Alice’s heart 
lost its heavy load, and she wondered whether she was 
not wicked, since she did not feel the usual anxious 
care. 

On the way home Alice said, “Jeanie, ‘it was good 
to be there.’ ” 

Jeanie turned and looked into the now calm and 
brightened face of her mistress, and said, “ Was it ? 
Please mem. I’m verra glad; verra glad for^^y but I 
dinna ken muckle o’ the matter.” 

“What do you not know, Jeanie?” 

“I dinna ken a’ the dooctrine the domine talked 
tha morning,” said Jeanie; “ what for the I^ord lets ye 
hae trooble wha loves Him sae. I was driedfu’ cauld 
i’ my heart i’ the hoose o’ the Lord.” 

“It is all wrong to feel like that, Jeanie,” said 


46 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Alice. ‘‘There are questions which cannot be answered 
now. We have trouble” — 

“That’s a fac,” broke in Jeanie. 

“We have trouble,” continued Alice, “and God takes 
our trouble away, or helps us to bear it bravely, which 
is nearly the same thing, and sometimes better for us; 

since we know then that He is with us. And we get 

strength to bear, while we are in His house; and so He 
is good. God is not shut up to one way, Jeanie.” 

“Weel, T hae na knoowledge; an ye must bear wi’ 

me, an tell me how the kirk can help ony body cast 
doon. I disna care if the Lord gie peace.” 

“ That knowledge will come in time, Jeanie,” said 
Alice. “Should you ever have a great trouble — God 
forbid that you should ! — you will want more than your 
catechism; and you will then want to go where God’s 
honor dwelleth, and His sympathising people gather : 
where His servants teach His power and mercy — what 
He has done for you in His Son Jesus Christ, and what 
p7'omises He has made to those who are in trouble — 
both for this world and the bright world beyond. The 
wonderfully sweet singer of Israel marked God’s house 
as a refuge, when he sang, ‘ The Lord hear thee in 
the day of trouble .... send thee help from the sanc- 
tuary, and strengthen thee out of Zion.’ I once knew, 
in Edinburgh, a dear Christian woman who for 'many 
years had taken sweet counsel in the house of the 
Lord. She called it ^ Ho7ne'' ; and when age and in- 
firmities debarred her the accustomed privilege, she 


GETTING STRENGTH. 


47 


would ask her friends, wlien they returned from the 
Sabbath service, ‘ What is the word from home to-day ? ’ 
The old family Bible was in her lap ; but she wanted 
it to come to her from diome’ — the sanctuary. She 
finally fell asleep in the Lord, and her pastor, at her 
funeral, said That she would often linger in the porch, to 
take his hand when he came along, and thank him 
for the word of comfort he had given her.’ ” 

By this time Alice and Jeanie had reached the gate 
of Willow Place. Having entered the house, Alice went 
to her room repeating Watt’s lines — 

“ How did my heart rejoice to hear 
My friends devoutly say, 

‘ In Zion let us all appear, 

And keep the solemn day.' 

“ I love her gates, I love the road ; 

The church, adorned with grace. 

Stands like a palace built for God, 

To show His milder face." 

Jeanie said to herself, “ I’ll say naethin o’ the kin’ ony 
mair. What for suld I fight the Lord ? Nae wonner 
I was driedfu’ cauld i’ my soul a’ the morning! The 
Lord is her shepherd, an I maun gang tae Him for mysel. 
The I^ord bless her ! She’s a Christian^ ilka inch o’ her. 
He hasna many sic as she: had He, the l.irk would be 
mair beautifu’, an I culd ken.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


GOD 



HILE ALICE WAS AT THE KIRK, Mac- 


donald was with the Atheists, with whom, by 


false reasoning, he had become slowly but surely iden- 
tified. The “ club ” was boisterously jubilant over some 
monstrous deed of impiety done by their friends in 
Paris. One man went so far as to cut the binding 
threads of the Bible, and throw it up against the ceil- 
ing, and shout, as the leaves fell on the heads of the 
men, “ Like snow-flakes they fall, and that is the end 
of them.” A mock celebration of the Lord’s Supper 
closed the blasphemous scene. 

From such opposite influences Andrew Macdonald 
and his wife Alice met to talk about God. Hope of 
good is dim, but the province of truth is to shine. 


Calmness is truth, 

And truth is calmness still. 

Truth lifts its forehead to the storm, 
Like some eternal hill. 

All truth is calm — 

Refuge, and Rock, and Tower. 

The more of truth, the more of calm; 
Its calmness is its power.” 


Macdonald found Alice sitting by a westerly win- 


GOD. 


49 


dow, watching the glories of the setting sun — the 
great sea of blue richly curtained by damasked clouds, 
and fragments, fire-edged, flying eastwardly like couri- 
ers, to greet and herald the newborn day. Alice had 
the Bible in her hand, and turned to that passage in 
Exodus which reads, “ The angel of the Lord appeared 
to him in a flame of fire, out of the midst of the bush.” 
Beauty and peace were written on sky and city. 

“ Beautiful ! ” said Macdonald, as he walked to the 
side of Alice. 

Very beautiful ! ” replied Alice. Michael Angelo 
had no colors so bright as those.” 

The man felt shorn of his strength in the presence 
of this intelligent gentle woman, right away ; but why, 
he could not understand. He could scorn, in the club- 
house, with words unbecoming this page, but not in 
the presence of this daughter of the Lord. 

Alice ! ” he said at length, “ I am ready to an- 

swer your questions — if I can'' He had not said 
till now. 

‘‘ Dear husband,” she replied, “ I have none to ask. 
Tell me why you believe with Bolingbroke, and I will 
tell you, as best I can, why I hold to the faith of 
our fathers.” 

“Very well; as you will,” said Macdonald. 

“ Years since, I sought in vain for the evidences of 

Christianity, and I am an Atheist ! — constrained by 

facts to be such ! God is not necessary." 

“ Not necessary! Can you say so, Andrew ? ” 

3 


so SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

‘‘Yonder fading glory, you say, is from God,” contin- 
ued Macdonald. “ I say, from Nature^ which is alive with 
forces capable of producing infinitely more than we now 
see ; and the beginning of these forces naturally happe7ied. 
Aristotle was right when he said, ‘ This is too great 
a work for any one being.’” 

“ Aristotle right ! did you say ? ” said Alice. 

“Dr. Guthrie’s God \?, unjust/'^ 

“Unjust! Oh no, husband; not unjust!” 

“ Men, women and children, faultlessly, are wronged, 
degraded and damned! Down with His altars! They 

are altarsof superstition — I know they are.” For a 

moment he lost his great self-control. . . . “The Bible you 
hold in your hand seems wonderful to you, but not to 
me. Its historic facts Josephus wrote, and its prophe- 
cies observing men could tell. All nations and cities 
perish in time, and the pagan world produced as pure 
and as able men as those you call Christian, Alice ! ” — 
and here Macdonald’s voice lost its former asperity, and 
more tenderly he continued — “I know you cannot see 
these things as I do, and I confess I do honor your 
simple faith; but to me faith in your religion is out of 
the question — simply impossible! Now the Jesus whom 
you call the divine Christ was pure, and loved tried, 
common people ; for which reason He was deified by 
them; and for that I accept Him and respect Him, as I 
do good Socrates. His mystery and renown result, as I. 
think, from false and superficial conceptions of His nature, 
and the natural ambition of his immediate followers; and 


GOD. 


51 


if He falls to the ground, all His doctrines do — that of the 
resurrection, you love so well, with the rest. Believe me 
Alice, I do not wish to hurt your teelings ; but intelligent 
as you are, you are wrong, and blinded by tradition.” 

A painful pause followed these declarations. Alice 
heard the. beating of her heart. Her hands nervously 
grasped her Bible, as she began to say, You are 
frank, indeed, my dear husband, and I thank you for 
your, compliment ; but right reason is against you, ac- 
cording to my view — and experie7icey 

Experience ! ” Macdonald repeated. “ Yours, Alice, 
not mine, remember. I do not like that word ‘ experi- 
ence ’ ; knowledge is better.” 

Andrew, were you anxious to find the evidences that 

Christianity is all true ? ” No reply. Macdonald 

leaned his head on his hands Dr. Arnot reviewed 

this ground,” continued Alice — her whole soul kindled 
with God’s Spirit — ‘triumphantly, as I now think. 
Andrew, you said ‘ God was tmnecessary ! ’ N o w I 
am a child in knowledge, but Arnot said Nature could 
only combine elements and reproduce itself ; and ,that 
carved on all its complicated parts was design, prov- 
ing a designer, and adaptation of means to an end. 
Nature could not design itself, because Nature has no 
mind, 

\ 

“ Andrew, yonder sky did not happen — how could 
it ? — and two creators increase the difficulty greatly. 
You also reject God, because He permits misery. How 
then can you love Natu7'ey which does the sime, as you 


52 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


yourself admit ? If God permits misery, He also is mak^ 
ing a supreme and progressive effort to abate, and whol- 
ly relieve it. You must look at both sides, husband. 

You speak of the Bible, but forget, do you not, that 
a God of lighteousness is the Bible, and not its men ? 
Had every man been bad, it would still be the Bible, 
while God, by it, condemns sin, and sacrifices His Son 
to ransom from its power. 

With regard to the ambition of the disciples — 
Christ designed and established a spiritual kingdom, 
and these men were its illustrious exponents and ear- 
nest advocates. They died, for their Master, and seemed 
glad to get the crown of martyrdom — to be baptized 
with His baptism of sorrows. Surely a greater than 
Socrates was there, and is here. But, Andrew, my ‘ faith 
is my evidence of things unseen,’ which is incommunicable. 
I do not know so well how I know, as that I know. 
The greatest intellect the world ever had — Paul — said 
to the Corinthians : ‘No man, speaking by the Spirit of 
God, calleth Jesus accursed’; and that ‘No man can say 
that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.’ I 
think the Comforter has drawn aside the veil for me; 
let me say. He will for you. 

“As to the Church, she is imperfect — her contro- 
versies a blot, her spirit often wrong. All that, and 
more, I frankly confess ; but Scotland’s glory is her 
knowledge of God. The cross of Jesus is the glory 
of her highlands, and the joy of her moors. See ! my 
husband, the sun is down, and night drapes the city; 


GOD. 


53 


so would our noble land, and all lands, be lost in 
dreadful moral darkness, should the bright cross of king 
Jesus, the banner and slogan of the Church, sink to rise 
no more. O Andrew, by God’s grace, I am what I am! 
Never before was my religion so precious; and while 
I have been talking, a great peace has come to me. 
Believe me, my husband, Jesus the Son of God and 
His words are true.” Alice checked herself, and said, 
‘‘Forgive the warmth of my heart.” 

Alice’s voice died away, and her argument in words 
closed forever. Tenderly she laid her hands in his, and 
proudly he held them; not on account of the truths, 
but for the vigorous and charming way in which she 
had uttered them. He believed in man, where he 
found intellect — admired a woman, who thought and 
argued well. 

Prayerful tears stole down her cheeks as Jeanie Butler 
rang the bell for supper. Macdonald gave no sign of 
consent ; but he did say that “ Alice Macdonald would 
make a splendid addition to the club.” He happened 
to say, one day, to “ his people^ that he had held an ar- 
gument on God with Mrs. Macdonald. “ Repeat it, ” 
they said. “No,” he said; “the woman beat me. But 
you know I couldn’t argue there, and with her^ as I can 
here. ” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


ALICE VISITS THE SHOP. 

ACDONALD had been on the Continent three 



weeks, and Alice was anxious, not having heard 


from him. Where was he — and why did he not 
write ? She knew he thought that not even a wife 
should know a man’s business vexations, and he had not 
told her his. Might not, then, business peril be the 
secret cause of his troubled mood ? Looking over all 
the past, she said : I love him more to-day than I 
ever did. Can he doubt it? No! Surely his heart is 
better than he lets it seem. He is my own pjvud hus- 
band, concealing by his austerity a grand and loyal 
nature. Was it not for that I first admired and then 
loved him ? It was 1 He is blind as to some things 
which make for peace — his and mine ; but are we not all 
blind ? Who doth know himself? And here are these 
tickets for an excursion into the country, and this silver 
he put into my hands as he left. A kind heart did it. 
No, I am not mistaken. We are not drifting, but on 
the bosom ot some gracious purpose — are being carried 
to some happy goal. We may not reach it together, but 
we both shall reach it.” 

^‘Jeanie,” said Alice, “I will go down to the shop 


ALICE VISITS THE SHOP. 


55 


and see how our people are getting on there. There 
may be some news from Mr. Macdonald.” 

Honest and genial John Maccullum cordially greeted 
Alice, saying, ‘‘ How d’ye do tha day, Mrs. Macdonald. 
It’s like a blink o’ sunshine to hae ye coom here — it 
is indeed — the Lord bless ye. An how d’ye at Willow 
Place ? Verra weel, I hope. Good news fra yer hus- 
band — and here’s a letter for ye.” 

‘‘Why, John,” said Alice, “how very happy you 
are. You are the ‘ blink o’ sunshine,’ I think. You are 
as fresh as a rose.” 

“Yes! I’m a happy mon — happy as a lark i’ the 
morning. I love the Lord, an’ do ma duty — what 
can a mon do mair? I love the ‘Rose o’ Sharon.’” 

“No trouble, John ? ” 

“ Ah ! yes, sometimes, leddy Alice ; but I see the side 
o’ the licht, as well as o’ the dark, ye see ; an’ I find 
the side o’ the licht’s the maist. Canna ye ? I ken 
ye can. Ithers hae mair trooble; an’ when I carry 
ithers, I lose ma ain. Is na that the way o’ it, leddy 
Alice ? ” 

“Christian philosophy, John, and good! I wish all 
men had it; all would be better and brighter. You 
answer to Peggie’s account of you. Peggie Dunbar told 
me all about you. She said you were sunshine itself.” 

“Did she?” said John. “Weel, noo, that’s good 
o’ Peggie Dunbar. God bless her soul. Peggie! Yes, 
I ken Peggie verra weel. Ance I courted Peggie i’ 
the country, an I was sae . wild that she wouldna 



56 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


hae me, an lock’t the door against me, an it went 
to ma hairt. But I didna jump intae the Clyde, 

ye ken. Weel, it’s a’ richt now, an a better mon 

I am than I was. I hae a wife — an tha’s nane 
sic — wha is a kind mother o’ ma poor bairn, Jamie. 
Yet Peggie an I are friends, an friends o’ ye; leddy 
Alice — warm friends o’ ye. Peggie tell’t me aboot 
ye, an’ I ken ye a lang while — sin ye sang i’ the 

kirk o’ Edinburgh, an was its sunshine ! ” 

‘‘Were you ever there, John?” said Alice. 

“ Didna I tell ye . I coorted Peggie ? ” said the 
foreman, smiling. “ Coorted, an’ failed ! An’ it was 

near Edinburgh. Wuldna ye step intae the bindery ? 
The licht o’ yer kind face would be a balm there noo. 
Some hairts are maist broken doon, an say, ‘ Nae body, 
muckle care.’ ‘ Verra sad they are the day.” Drops of 
pity’s dew stood in John Maccullum’s eyes. 

“To be sure, John, Pll go! I came for that partly; 
though I need not, while you are here. I thank you 
for myself.” 

While thus talking, the cripple Jamie hobbled near, 
and sat down and looked wonderingly up into the face 
of Alice. 

“Who is this frail little laddie, John?” said she. 

“Ah! Jamie is ma bairn. He fell doon the stairs, 
yonner, an’ is a cripple for life, puir laddie ! It braks 
oor hairts.” 

Alice bent down and stroked the boy’s beautiful 
head, kissed both his pale cheeks, put some silver in 
liis hand, and left him a happy boy. 


ALICE VISITS THE SHOP. 


57 


Now to the bindery, John,” said Alice. 

John opened the door of the bindery, introduced 
Alice to the women and girls, and left her there. She 
went from one to another of the weary binders, scat- 
tering smiles and cheerful words, which gladdened their 
hearts. They never forgot that day. By the side of 
an aged widow, Alice sat a long while, and learned 
the outline of a very sad life. Happy girlhood — plight- 
ed love — intemperance — poverty — death in the Close.” 
In her hand Alice left rent-money, and a ticket for 
a ride in the country — in her heart hope, and an 
invitation to call at Willow Place. The woman buried 
her face in her hands and cried over the kindness, 
and said, ‘‘The Lord bless ye! — the Lord bless ye!” 

Alice returned home happier than she came, as 
heaven’s returning angels of mercy do. 

As no opportunity will occur again to refer to Alice’s 
relation with these people, let it be known that the 
columns of duty and payments balanced; and when 
the cripple died, one peaceful Sunday night, she sat 
by his side, and sang to him of a land where none 
are lame, until his eye dimmed, and his little hand lay 
cold in hers. 

On reaching her room Alice opened the letter and 
read, much moved : 

Paris. 

Alice ^ My Wife : — 

In much haste I write to tell you that I am quite 
well, and, by good management — my forte, you know — 
3 * 


58 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


have prevented heavy pecuniary losses. But enough 
of that ! How I wish you were here, to go with me 
over this splendid city — parks, palaces, picture galleries, 
churches, etc. Sunday is a holiday here, and the peo- 
ple enjoy themselves greatly. Does it shock you, Alice ? 
Well, customs vary. They go too far here, I 
think myself. As a matter of physical and mental 
need, the right is somewhere between this and our 
Puritan Sabbath. 

I think, as I did before I left, concerning the mat- 
ter we considered together that Sunday night; freely 
admitting, however, that your experience of God would 
greatly trouble me, did I not know that all human 
experience is unreliable. There are able, scholarly, pro- 
gressive men here ; and I think that they will solve 
some of the dark problems that meet us at every step, 
and then we shall see eye to eye. Waiting for that 
good day, I remain. Your Andrew. 

N. B. — I do not understand myself as well as I did. 

Strangely enough, Alice got much comfort out of 
this letter; particularly from the last sentence — ‘‘I do 
not understand myself. ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


GOING RIGHT ON SAVED! 

T hree years passed away. Macdonald 

continued an active member of the “ Club/^ and, 
with other “ Freethinkers,” boldly denied the divinity 
of Christ and the sacred nature of the books of 
the Bible. But their task was no easy one. Cham- 
pions for the attacked truth arose on every side, fore- 
most among whom was Bishop Butler ; and although 
his matchless argument stunned them, they scoffingly 
pursued their deadly way. 

Alice saw with terror the “Club’s” vicious influence, 
and her soul was grieved. Day and night she wrestled 
with God in prayer; and, as she saw her husband 
growing coarser in thought and action, and away from 
his family, the more intense grew her importunity. 
For such dark days as hers, she believed that the 
privilege of prayer was given ; and not the shadow 
of a doubt weakened her assurance that all would yet 
be well. In the spirit of her great countryman, she 
cried before the Lord : “ Give me my husband, or I 
die !” and the answer came, “He is yours.” 

But the “ Club ” was more defiant than ever, and 
the battle grew hot and heavy. “Eternal God!” cried 


6o 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


one of the grandest preachers of that day, “ on what 
are thine enemies intent?” Well did he so ask, when 
he saw their destructive course. 

Alice also walked steadily on in girding, cheerful 
trust. At God’s house, and in private Bible reading 
and prayer, she found assurance and good cheer.” 
Indeed her character grew wonderfully symmetrical, 
strong and beautiful. Like the healthy orange tree, it 
was fragrant with blossom and rich in fruit. The hearts 
of the weary bent towards her in hope; for her words 
were with grace, and her smile as bright and genial 
as the sunshine. As she walked along the streets of 
Glasgow, good people bowed respectfully, and the pro- 
fane were decent till she passed. Her royal life withered 
the reviler, and the logic of the ‘^Club.” Alice could 
safely go, as she did, into any court ” or close ” in 
the wretched parts of the city, and find a warm wel- 
come. Hers was the only light that shone in many 
dreary rooms; and she stood a wonderful comforter by 
the side of dying women — degraded, defrauded, and 
bruised to death by human fiends, whose character had 
been modeled without a God. 

One gloomy, chilly afternoon, Alice was out on an 
errand of mercy which had taken her some distance 
from home. She found, on looking about, that she 
was in a very wretched and dangerous neighborhood, 
and was about to turn back, when she felt her dress 
pulled gently. Turning around, she saw a poor girl in 
tattered garments, and sobbing. 


GOING RIGHT ON SAVED ! 


6l 


“ Why do you cry, lassie ? ” said Alice, tenderly. 

‘‘ Come with me, leddy. Do, please, ” she begged, 
still pulling at her dress. 

I will go with you, lassie,” said Alice ; lead on.” 

The girl rapidly led, and Alice followed through 
narrow streets and gloomy alleys, and up an old worn 
stairway, to a room under the roof — and such a room 
of darkness and dirt ! ‘‘ Here she is, leddy,” said 

the girl. 

An elderly woman lay on an old straw mattress, 
breathing heavily, drunken or dying. 

Woman ! woman ! good woman ! ” said Alice, in 
her own soothing way, wake up ! ” The poor creature 
opened her eyes, and, by a painful effort, raised up a 
little, glared wildly around, fixed her gaze on Alice, 
and despairingly said, ‘‘ I, good ? No; no more. Who — 
who be you ? ” 

‘‘A frieitd^ sent to you by the Great Friend of sin- 
ners ; and He will make you good, if you will trust 
Him.” 

“Friend! did you say friend? Nobody is ftiy friend. 
I was lost and cursed long ago. Oh dear ! God ! I am 
dying I Oh dear I — dear me ! ” 

“God is your friend, dear woman,” said Alice, ear- 
nestly. 

“ Look at me I — look into my face. Is the holy God 
my friend ? I turned away from Him — can’t you see 
God has left me to die alone.” 

“ Who are you ? What is your past ? How were you 
brought down so low ? ” said Alice. 


62 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Spare ! spare me ! You are a kind lady,’^ begged 
the woman, lifting one of her withered hands. 

God will spare you for the sake of Christ, His 

Son. He died for you,” said Alice. 

“No; God will never spare me. His Son did not 
die for me. Who says so? I — O God! I — ” 

Alice read, from the well worn Bible which she al- 
ways carried with her on her errands of mercy, Isaiah’s 
words, “ Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends 
of the earth.” 

“ Does God say ‘ ends of the earth ? ’ ” said the wo- 
man, evidently interested. 

“ He does,” replied Alice. And then she read 

“ Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord : 
though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white 
as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall 
be as wool.” 

“ More — read more, lady 1 Does God say that ? ” 
said the sick creature, with increasing earnestness. 

“ God, the great Father, said so,” said Alice ; and 
then she read about the “ prodigal son,” and the “ woman 

who was a sinner,” and Christ’s great words, “ Come 

unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest. ... ye shall find rest unto your 
souls.” 

“ Dous it make no difterence how wicked I am ? — 
I am the wickedest woman in Glasgow. Does it make 
no difference?” Tears now began to trickle down the 
poor old face. 


GOING RIGHT ON SAVED 1 63 

“No difference whatever,” replied Alice. “ ‘ Come 
unto me, all^ ’ are His words.” 

“ What must I do ? ” 

“ Believe that you are a sinner, and that Christ is 
your Saviour.” 

“ Believe ! I believe the first. What is the second ? ” 

“It is clinging to Him — to His righteousness. Yours 
is rags.^^ 

“Yes, rags — rags — filthy rags! O God, my crimes!” 
cried the outcast, trembling from head to foot. 

“ Be quiet now,” said Alice ; “ I am going to the Me- 
diator.” 

“ Take ///<?, lady — ,take me I ” 

“ He will receive us both.” 

Alice bowed by the side of the woman, and in 
simple language prayed for her forgiveness. In a lit- 
tle while she seemed soothed and fell asleep, and Alice 
bathed her hot brow, lips and hands with the water 
the girl had brought, who had been standing outside 
the door all the time. 

“ Lassie ! lassie,” called Alice, “ come here.” 

The girl came in. 

“ Who is this woman, lassie ? ” asked Alice. 

“ I don’t know,” replied the girl. “ She nioved in 
here last week, lady. I loved her ’cause nobody else 
did. But they say I’m wicked. S’pose I am. See, 
lady, she’s dyin’ ! I don’t want to see her die.” And 
the girl ran out, shrugging her shoulders. 

Soon after, the woman cried out bitterly, “ Lady, 


64 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


will God save me? Are you sure? Oh, I’m so 
wicked.’^ 

He will. Believe on His Son.” 

“ His Son ! yes, I know — seems like a dream — the 
village — the chapel — the minister! Take this old hand, 
lady — this poor old hand.” 

Alice took the hand and kissed it. 

‘^A sinner’s hand, lady — a vile hand. Will Jesus 
Christ take that old hand ? ” 

‘‘ He will. Lay it now on the prints of the nails, 
and see.” 

A gentle, heavenly light spread over the poor old 
face, out of which the wrinkles were now going, and 
she whispered, I do. I feel the scar. O life ! life ! eter- 
nal life 1! ” 

Alice sweetly sang: 

“ There is a fountain filled with blood, 

Drawn from Immanuel’s veins.” 

As the singer’s voice died away, the poor woman’s 
hand loosened its hold on Alice, her eyes closed, and 
her lips very faintly whispered, ‘‘ Fountain ” — blood ” — 
“white as snow.” “Good night, la — ” and she was 
dead. Alice, covered the poor wan face with her hand- 
kerchief, went out, and notified the coroner. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


A BEG G A R A r THE DOOR. 

M acdonald was in paris. The night was 

dark and stormy. The rain and hail, driven by 
the fierce wind from the Irish sea, dashed hard against 
the old windows, and rattled on the stone roofs. The 
nervous trees moaned, and fitfully struck the gutters and 
gables, as it to wreak vengeance for the anger and sniit- 
ings of the storm. 

Jeanie Butler stood by the window, peering out into 
the night. The wind howled — the thunder shook the 
house with the force of a thousand cannon, and, in the 
glare of the lurid lightning, she saw a man stealthily 
coming towards the house. A rap on the door! ^‘111 
na open the door,” whispered Jeanie. Another rap, and 
then an impatient blow! Jeanie Butler was no coward, 
and although startled, she stepped to the door, and said, 
‘‘ What for d’ye stan’ there ? ” 

I’m a traveler — been robbed down by the Clyde — 
am cold, wet, and hungry. Woman, let me in for God’s 
sake ! ” said the man, in a tone of deep distress. 

Jeanie Butler had never refused bread to the hun- 
gry. She had a brother far away beyond the sea, and 
thought of him — opened the door, and bade the man 


66 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


come in,” in a formal sort of a way. He was 

small in stature, compactly built, and showed signs of 
dissipation. His speech was fair English, and there 

was a play of geniality about the mouth, and of cun- 
ning also. His eye was changeable. Now dull as a 
dying coal, then glittering as a cat’s — a remorseless 
man — a man to shun. 

Jeanie gave him bread and cheese, which he ate 
in silence, and then drew near the fire, saying, ‘‘John 
Maccullum sent me here — he did ! ” 

“Hand yer tongue, mon. Ye lee, noo;” said Jeanie 
sharply. “ I ken John, an’ he wuldna do’t.” 

As if insulted, the man grasped his hat, turned the 

collar of his coat up against his neck, and shuffled 

towards the door. 

“Gang! — gang to yer ain hame,” said Jeanie. “Suld 
we want ye, we’ll sen’ for ye.” 

He opened the door, and a gust of wind drove the 
rain across the room. 

“ Whew 1 ” said the man, clutching his old hat. 
“Jack Maccullum told me to come here! Woman, will 
you drive me out into such a storm as is raging to- 
night? Don’t you hear the trees moan, and the fright- 
ened ghosts rattling the gable windows? Heartless wo- 
man ! can you hope for mercy at God’s judgment ? ” 

“I can,” said Jeanie, quickly. “Can ye hope it for 
yersel? Whaur’s yer ain hame — hae ye got any? 
What for are ye here ? Yer ee’n is evil. Gie an 
account o’ yersel. Mon, ye lee about Maccullum.” 


A BEGGAR AT THE DOOR. 


67 


The beggar saw the woman’s defiant spirit, changed 
his tactics, and piteously said: ‘^Have pity, woman! — 
I am homeless and friendless, and afraid. The wind 
is full of spirits, and they shriek at me. Give me a 
rug in the loft. No harm shall come to you. Hark! 
hark! A ghost is at the door! Oh, I see him! — 
her I I didn’t ! Go away ! O God ! ” 

Jeanie thought she saw the effects of his hard 
drinking — that he seemed wild as well as haggard — 
and said, pityingly, Sit ye doon, an’ I’ll tell the mis- 
tress.’’ 

While Jeanie was gone, the man turned to the fire, 
saying: ‘‘Trust me for a woman’s heart I She suspects 
me, and yet will let me stay — will not fight against 
the Lord, which turning me out she thinks would be, 
as Macdonald said, in his talk on superstition. Ha ! 
ha ! she suspects bad intention. ' But I’m no common 
thief Oh no — no common thief! Heavens! what am I? 
I know what I was o?ice — ojice ; how long ago it seems! 

Was I what I am ? Alas ! my God ! my mother ! my 

wife ! my daughter ! ” 

The sinner is never sure of his footing. An 
aroused conscience makes a night of horrors. 

“ Let him stay,” said Alice, “ and double bar the 
door leading to the room.” 

The man was directed to the isolated room, and 

went into it, and the passage door was barred. 

“This is the room! — the room! My fate is kind to- 
night. Quick ! is the word. What am I now ? Am 


68 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


I what I was ? ’Tis no stealing to steal stolen goods ! 
Macdonald said ‘ There is no God ; ^ so what care I ? 
I didn’t break her heart, the fools 1 Why should I ? 
They said she died of a broken heart. I did it, the 
curses ! ” 

At the bottom of an old chest, the villain found 
the yellow, blurred, old papers. Hastily thrusting them 
into a large pocket on the inside of his coat, he laid 
down on the cot and fell asleep. 

In the morning the storm had passed away — and so 
had the beggar. 

Jennie stood and looked into the room amazed. 
She said, I wonner what for he cam’t ? He leed to me. 
I canna believe in ghaists, and canna ken a’ this.” 


CHAPTER XV II. 


A B I R T H . 

T he BAIRN’S A BOY!” said Peggie Dunbar, 
as, laughing and singing, she came into the 
kitchen. ‘^Jeanie! the bairn’s a boy!” 

‘‘ The darling ! An wha is he like noo ? ” said Jeanie. 

I dinna ken ; but he’s like a Scot,” replied Peggie. 
‘‘ A Scot, to be sure ! But is he like the father or 
the mother ? ” said Jeanie. 

“ He’s a body like the father, an a soul like the 
mother; an I pray God he’ll be a 7ninisterr Said Peggie. 

An why wuld ye hae him a minister?” said Jeanie; 
‘^a’ tJie infidels ’ll be at him, and he’ll hae grief, an na 
hae siller. I wuldna hae him a dominie. Aweel ! I 
carena muckle whether the bairn’s a laddie or a lassie, 
Peggie ; but tak care o’ her. She is a leddy we canna 
part wi’. Tak care o’ Alice, the bonny angel ! I’d 
lee doon and dee for sic as she — the licht o’ the 
hame. ” 

John Maccullum told his wife that Peggie had sent 
word to her, The bairn’s a boy. ” She told the women 
in the bindery, and they said, The Lord bless her and 
him.” Jamie swung his crutch, evincing his joy, and the 
men in the factory drank to the health of the woman 
who had cheered their own wives. That was their way. 


70 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


That day, by coach, Peggie sent the news to Edin- 
burgh, and said, Alice is sae beautifu’ ma een are wet 
a’ the time; for she shines wi’ angel’s glory, or her ain, 1 
dinna ken. We a’ love her wi’ a’ our hairts.” 

There is joy when a child is born, where virtue and 
love are. Innocence is welcome. Shame on the thought 
of modern times ! There is room now for a mother and 
her child somewhere, if not in the fashionable inn. 

Andrew Macdonald walked down to the shop that 
morning more genial than usual — he had found his 
heart! “The boy is not immortal,” he said; but 
somehow he felt richer. He tossed a few extra pence 
to the boot-blacks and to the old “ coffee and bun wo- 
man ;” chatted a moment with the grocer and butcher, 
and bought rare flowers for Alice. On reaching the 
shop, he glanced at the sign, scowled, and said,^ “ I 
wish it meant the boy.” All day long he maintained 
his urbanity, and the whole shop was glad in a new 
experience. There was more cheerful chatting and 
singing that day, than ever before. The bird of love 
was bringing together a few splinters from the “ ark of 
the covenant,” and leaves from Sharon’s rose, to build 
her nest in his heart, where she might lay Ifer young, 
even peace, truth and joy ; but he “ swore the boy 
should follow him ; ” and is a tyrant still — cold, bitter, 
and unblessed. 

When the boy had been dressed in the snowy 
robes brought down from Edinburgh by Peggie Dunbar, 
Alice said, “ Give me my darling boy now, Peggie.” 


A BIRTH. 


71 


Peggie laid him on Alice’s arm, and she drew his 
head against her heart and said, Father in heaven, 
I bring to Thee my boy ! Thou art stronger than the 
strong man to run a race, and wilt never break Thy 
promise to a mother, for the sake of Him who laid in 
the manger. Amen.” 

From the bright, sorrowless world, peace came; and 
Alice slept, while angels watched over the mother and 
her child. Peggie watched her face while she slept, and 
thought she had never beheld such beauty — a beauty 
that seemed to blossom in glory. When Alice awoke, 
she said that she had seen a group of angels bend- 
ing over them. The Prince covered the boy’s head 
with His shining hands, so that they made a crown ; 
and He said, ‘ Mother ! thy prayer is heard.’ ” 

The name of Robert” came down from Edin- 
burgh. Peggie mentioned “Joseph.” Jennie searched 
through some old books of the kirk, and brought out 
“James Ren wick,” and “Daniel Cameron.” Either would 
do, for James had held aloft the standard of the kirk, 
and Daniel had been a bold banner man. John Mac- 
cullum mentioned “Joshua,” and his wife “Luke.” The 
cripple whispered “Jamie,” and the widow “John.” Alice 
named him Andrew, which is his name to-day — Andrew 
Macdonald. 

“ When at the cool gray break 
Of day, from sleep I wake, 

With my first breathing of the morning air 
My soul goes up with joy 
To Him who gave my boy.” 

“When Jesus spake, well might His language be, 

‘ Sufifer these little ones to come to me.’” 


72 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Kind reader, I will not tell you all the routine life 
of the people to whom I have introduced you — only 
the salient facts. Always a few events, often one, shape 
life. Down at the bottom lies one good or evil idea, 
and men and women are a crystallization of good or evil. 
Like draws like. If the basilary principle is evil, the 
evil is organized; if good, the good. 

Thus ten years passed away after the birth of Andy. 
Sunshine and shadow alternated. The shuttle of life’s 
loom carried the thread, and the weavers wore the gar- 
ments which they wove, and shall wear forever! A 
bright thread was woven in while visiting at Edinburgh. 
Alice, Andy and Peggie, were greeted with exceeding 
joy, and there was a festival of love. Alice’s cheek 
got back its old bloom — her heart its old thrill ; and 
when she returned to Glasgow, she carried a great 
peace, and was sure that she had not made a mistake. 
Twice within ten years had “ Willow Place ” been glad, 
and the word had gone down to Jeanie, and the shop 
and bindery, and Mrs. John Maccullum, and up to Edin- 
burgh, another bairn is born I ” Once it was a boy, 
and he was called Robert. Last a girl, and she was 
called Amy Burns Macdonald. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


SILENT CONFLICT, 



NTIL AMY BURNS MACDONALD was born, 


Macdonald paid no attention to the government 


of the children. There were no greetings — no fellow- 
ship, such as children crave. Fear came with his steps, 
and remained with his presence. 

Andy and Robert had never once dined with their 
father, and had never been real glad to see him. 

‘‘You do wrong, Andrew,” said Alice. 

“ I will do right then ! ” he petulantly replied. Alas 
for his idea ! 

He questioned the boys, and said, “ Ten years are 
lost ! — they are little Puritans” — and sent them to school 
to a sceptic, who craftily dealt with God and the Bible. 

On the Sabbath, Macdonald led them along the 
river, among boatmen, fishermen, and swimmers, to turn 
the edge of Alice’s teaching. When passing kirk or 
minister, he made derogatory remarks ; and on Saturdays 
allowed them to mingle with the men at the factory. 

Alice felt the deadly peril, but said, “ I cannot do 
more than I have done, and am doing.” 

Right on she went — faithfully, tenderly, joyfully — 
making deep impressions ; and while for the hour the 


4 


74 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


boys liked the free range given them by Macdonald, 

they turned to rest in the love of Alice, their mother. 

Is Macdonald too late ? He thinks not — thinks the 
keen edge is already dulled. We shall see. The time 
draws near when Andy will make his start in life — 
when he will be tested as to veracity, courage, patience 
and endurance. Will he stand or break under the or- 
deal ? We shall see. Alas, how many bend or break! — 
Not rooted in truth, they are carried away on the flood 

of disaster. A few months more of schooling, and the 

day came — came in this wise: — 

Mr. Macdonald,” said John Maccullum, the foreman, 
“ an errand laddie is needed in the shop. The widow 
i’ the bindery says, ‘ Wuld I hae her laddie ?’ I said 
I’d tell ye o’ him! ” 

‘‘ I will bring Andy,” said Macdonald, promptly and 
decidedly. 

Wuld ye tak him oot o’ schuil ? I wuldna do’t,” 
said the foreman, respectfully. 

“I will bring Andy,” said the master. 

That evening Andy was called into the sitting-room 
from the kitchen, and told to rise early, and go down 
to the shop, to be. the errand boy. 

Andy was glad. Like other boys, he had with 
pleasure anticipated the day when he should start out 
to seek his fortune ; but as he lay in bed with Bob 
that night, he felt a strange regret, as his mother 
came softly into his room, bent over him and prayed, 
and her precious tears dropped on his face. Neither 


SILENT CONFLICT. 


75 


that night, nor the next morning, nor did he ever for- 
get it.^ When he was ready to go to the shop — so rosy 
in face, and noble in bearing — Alice drew him to her 
heart, kissed him many times, and said with an em- 
phasis uncommon even for her, ^‘Andy, my darling son, 
as you love me, remember mcther^ and remember God!^"' 
I will, mother, I will,’’ he said, as he wound his 
arms around her neck. 

Andy bounded to the river, over the bridge, and 
to the shop, and was told by Macdonald ‘^to wait on 
the men.” It was a busy day. Now he was sent to 
High street Avith an order for trimmings, then to the 
bindery with a hat to be bound over. At noon the 
men sent him to the Retreat ” for whiskey, when 
for the first time he saw a ^‘bar,” and the cozy room 
where sailors and others were quarreling over some 
game he did not understand. Andy brought the whis- 
key, and John .Maccullum was sorry to see it. He 
knew, however, that he must not interfere, but said, 
God kens I’ll do to ithers, laddie, as I’d hae ithers 
do to ma ain — I willd 

Meeting the boy, he said cheerfully, Weel, Andy, 
an sae yer coom to be wi’ us i’ the shop; the Lord 
bless ye! We must be friends, laddie, ye ken,”' and 
passed on. 

Andy wondered at the manner of the foreman at 
the time, for he felt no peril; but the day came when 
he almost worshiped John Maccullum, the great-hearted 
foreman, for his kind words and strong hand, and cheer- 


76 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


ful face. Month after month, Andy waited on the men, 
and they liked the boy, for his obedience and ^bright 
wit. He also grew fond of them, and was influenced 
by them. Inheriting his mother’s quick ear and musi- 
cal voice, he readily caught their tunes, and sang them 
better than they — worse than that, he glided into the 
use of vulgar and profane words. 

Maccullum heard it, and said kindly, Andy, d’ye 
ken its a’ wrang ? It would brak yer mother’s hairt 
if she kent ye did’na baud yer tounge an dee, afore 
ye would tak’ the name o’ God in vain. Stop noo, 
laddie! Ye wuld na brak yer mother’s hairt, would 
ye ? An Andy, be carefu’ o’ the company ye keep. 

‘ Evil communications corrupt good manners.’ I saw 
ye on the bridge wi’ Jack Glass, an ye mustna do’t. 
Na, na; he’ll lead ye doon to ruin an disgrace. An I 
didna see ye i’ the kirk last Sunday, Andy, wi’ yer 
mother; an her een were red wi’ tears. Ye mustna 
mak yer mother cry. Coom doon to ma hoos after 
wark, an we’ll wicket i’ the twilight — we’ll be laddies 
taegither, an hae lots o’ fun. Will ye coom, Andy ? ” 
May I call you uncle John?” said Andy. 

‘‘ Onything ye moind, laddie, if ye’ll do the richt.” 
May I put my arms around your neck, uncle 
John ?” 

The foreman lashed the boy to his breast, so deep and 
broad, with his strong arms ; and Andy got an idea 
of the pater?ial, somehow. 

Andy’s bright visions soon suffered an eclipse. He 


SILENT CONFLICT. 


77 


was only a common drudge, and was often treated un- 
justly. 

One day, after receiving some cheering words from 
Maccullum, Andy gave way to his blithesomeness while 
his father was out. Boys ought to be boys, while 
boys. Testing his leaping abilities, he struck the writing 
case, overthrew the inkstand, and disarranged the papers. 
Macdonald returned while Andy was striving to right 
matters, and, without waiting for an explanation, gave 
the boy a cruel blow, which almost flung him to the 
floor. 

The humiliated and broken-hearted son went and 
stood with his face against the wall, in the passage-way 
leading to the factory, where Maccullum found him, 
and whispered, “ Puir laddie, I ken a’ aboot it. Bide yer 
father. Ye’ll na get the blows lang. There, never 
moind now ! ” 

‘‘ I did not deserve the blow, uncle J ohn ; and my 
father gave it!” said Andy, more injured in heart than 
body. 

“Excuse yer father, Andy; he did na feel well, per- 
haps;. or he may hae lost some siller. Bide him wi» 
patience, and he’ll be proud o’ ye yet.” 

“I’ll try, uncle John,” said Andy. 

“ That’s right noo — an do not tell the mother this 
time; ’twuld grieve her heart, ye ken.” 

“Andy kept his promise; but Alice overheard him 
sob in his sleep that night, and divined the cause. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE BEGGAR AGAIN. 

O N THE NIGHT of the day when Andy re- 
ceived the blow, Macdonald was returning from 
the club-room, where the Annual Dinner had been given 
in honor of Reasoi. He reached the bridge over the 
Clyde, meeting no one but a policeman. The town 
clock struck two. The river rolled sobbingly along, as 
if bemoaning the death of the young woman who, in 
an agony of remorse and cruelty, had flung herself 
into it from a stone dock above. The stars were ob- 
scured by low stormy clouds, and the wind screeched 
through the mast forests and bridge braces. Only a 
brave man dared the night and the place. Macdonald 
dared, nor thought of danger to himself, although, as 
he crossed the river, he heard the stealthy stroke of 
muffled oars beneath or near the bridge. There were 
two boats. One was crossing the river, the other was 
going down with the tide, with the body of the woman 
in tow. Horrible sight! 

When Macdonald had passed over the bridge, a 
strong hand suddenly grasped his arm. Macdonald 
turned on the man and scornfully said, My dastardly 
blackmailers again ! ” 


THE BEGGAR AGAIN. 


79 


“ Blackmailers, or blacklegs, or friends — what will you 
give me for the papers ? — quick ! ” 

“ What papers ? ” gasped Macdonald. 

The papers you took from the wreck !” 

“Villain! — liar! you have no papers of mine,” re- 
plied Macdonald. 

The man pulled the bundle from his pocket. 
Macdonald nervously snatched at it, but the man was 
too quick for him. 

“You never can do anything with them !” said Mac- 
donald, sneeringly. 

“ I can tell about them,” jeered the man. 

“ Thief! how much money do you want ?” said Mac- 
donald, angrily. 

“ Call me a thief ^ and I’ll not sell them to you. I 
want ten pounds to-night. How much another night, when 
I’m cold and dry, I don’t know.” 

“ Lay down the papers and I’ll lay down the money,” 
said Macdonald, feeling humiliated. 

The men separated ; the one chuckling- over his 
gold and the other cursing the papers, the man, and 
God. One went to Willow Place; the other to the 
“ Retreat,” where he met Bill Perkins and Dennis 
Mulligan, and drank and gambled the money away be- 
fore daylight. 

Matters grew worse at Willow Place. Clouds ga- 
thered fast, and swooped down low. Macdonald grew 
intensely selfish, and flung in his passion bitter, galling 
words at Alice. In his business troubles he went 


So 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


to the “ Club,” and cursed God and kirk, and was more 
miserable than ever before. Well has our American 
poet said : — 


“ A millstone and the human heart are driven round and round 

If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves be ground.” 


Macdonald was grinding himself to powder. He is 
the result of his ideas. He stretches his groping hands 
into the darkness, and grasps a thunderbolt. His hair 
is^ prematurely thinning and turning gray, and his steps 
at times falter. Macdonald is doomed 


CHAPTER XX. 


Peggy’s fears. 

‘‘TEANIE!” 

J ^‘Yes, Peggie.” 

‘‘Our Alice ’ll soon lie doon an dee !” 

“Na, na, Peggie; it canna’ be — it mustna’ ! I pray 
God it willna’ be !” protested Jeanie, earnestly. 

“ God gie’ ye yer prayer, J eanie ; I dinna’ ken what 
will become o’ the bairns, suld the mother be taen 
awa — there is nane sic i’ the warld. Sorrow hings 
aboot ma hairt,” sobbed Peggie. 

“An what maks ye think sae, Peggie? Hae ye ony 
signs — ony dreams ?” inquired Jeanie, anxiously. 

“I dinna ken muckle o’ it,” Jeanie, said Peggie, “but 
she canna sing only o’ heaven ; an a’ the time she 
prays the gude God to tak care o’ the bairns ; an 
she coughs sae dry and painfu’; and her cheeks are 
a’ red wi’ a blossom i’ the morning.” 

“ Hasna God said He would hear us when we 
cry untae Him?” said Jeanie. 

“ He has,” said Peggie ; “ but I disna ken how the 
answer cooms ! ” 

Peggie’s fears were well grounded. Alice Macdon- 
ald, the woman, wife and mother — so much needed 
in our world — will, is, softly passing out of it. She is 
4 * 


82 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


in the land of Beulah, and will soon step over the 
border line, and that triumphantly. Alice Macdonald’s 
world intermingles with paradise. Angels pass from 
world to world, and so will she. Alice will go, and 
will stay. All the rivers run into the sea; and the 
sea returns to the rivers.’^ 


C H A P 1' E R XXI. 


THE C H 1 L J> K E N ’ S HELPER. 

M rs. LINDSAY, Alice’s friend, was not getting 
on well with her children. Worried beyond 
measure, she said, “ 1 will go and talk with Alice 
Macdonald.” 

That very day tlie troubled lady called at Willow 
Place, and as soon as possible said, Mrs. Macdonald, 
I am in great trouble ! ” 

Very much startled, Alice asked the cause. 

My children.” 

“ Your children ! Are they ill ?” 

“No: but they are a law unto themselves — disre- 
gard my authority — keep my house in confusion — and, 
acting worse before company than at other times, hu- 
miliate me.” 

“ Worse than at other times ?” 

“A great deal worse — perfectly uncontrollable.” 

“ What do you do, Mrs. Lindsay ?” 

“ Coax — promise candy and dolls — threaten to whip, 
or tell Mr. Lindsay — make them sit in the corner, and 
read the 119th Psalm all through, and say their prayers 
morning and night — and sometimes twice over.” 

Alice smiled at the needless distress of her friend, and 


84 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


said, “ I am not sure that I can help you, because 
the law that is outside of one’s self is helpless, and 
children differ.” 

‘‘Is there a fixed law in this matter?” enquired 
Mrs. Lindsay. 

“As fixed as any law of God; but the method, 
measure and manner of application must vary as sharp- 
ly as the physician’s in his sphere. You cannot mould 
character as brick-makers mould bricks, Mrs. Lindsay.” 

“ What is that law ?” said Mrs. Lindsay. 

“ God’s law of righteousness,” said Alice. 

“ What is its action ?” said Mrs. Lindsay. 

“ Two-fold — one to secure right action ; the other 
to protect liberty,” said Alice. 

“Is the mother that law ?” 

“ Practically, she is,” said Alice. 

“ How ? — I do so wish to know,” said Mrs. Lind- 
say. 

“ I have God’s law in my heart. To it, I and mine 
must answer; and until the author of the law is known, 
my children must answer to it in me — in me said 
Alice, very firmly. 

Mrs. Lindsay had become deeply interested, and 
asked, “ Have you any key, as they say, to the situa- 
tion ? ” 

Do what is right always. That idea stirs my 
boy’s ambition, rings with victory, ^and agrees with his 
moral sense,” said Alice. 

“ My children are each different. One is vain. 


THE children’s HELPER. 


8s 


another avaricious; one vindictive, another too generous,^’ 
said Mrs. Lindsay. ‘‘ How and what shall I do ? ” 

“ Right there,” said Alice, I take my stand at 
the weak place3 and lead away from it. It is not 
enough to shut down the gate. I must lead the im- 
pulses away Irom it; else the current will fill and crash 
the gate down. Is that not clear ?” 

How can you do that ?” said Mrs. Lindsay. 

“ By mutual trust, no concealments, and tender di- 
version. I told the boys the other day to speak pure 
words. Robbie said, ^ Mamma, cause I don’t swear 
isn’t cause I don’t know how. I knows lots of swear!” 
Indeed, Robbie, said I, what swear do you know ? ” 
I know ‘ hang it, ’ he said, and ‘ gracious,’ and 
‘blame it,’ and ‘darn it’; and I know one more. 
Putting his lips close to my ear, he whispered, ‘ by 
golly.’” 

Then I talked in a simple way about the use of 
words, and showed how they were thoughts.^' 

“What do you mean by protecting privileges? Mrs. 
Macdonald.” 

Alice rose, opened a door, and said, “ See, Mrs. Lind- 
say, Robbie has fallen asleep among his privileges.” 

Mrs. Lindsay went to the door, looked in, and sure 
enough the boy’s beautiful head lay on Rover’s neck. 
He was fast asleep, surrounded by ruins of block houses, 
idle hoops, balls and marbles. 

Alice was very weary, but conscious of doing good, 
said, “ God has given to me and mine privileges neither 


86 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


may rob the other of ; and while they are young I 
guard theirs — when I am old they will guard mine. Andy 
is vigorous, and it is his liberty to explode. Robbie is 
delicate and quiet, and is protected in his disposition. 
There is no collision, and we understand each other. 
A speechless baby reads its mother’s thought. I am 
my argumentt I fill the house with attractions, but am 
myself the brightest. To-day I take care of to-morrow.” 

Do you punish ? ” said Mrs. Lindsay. 

Once I did,” said Alice. “ Andy disobeyed me. 
I said, ‘ Andy, I must punish you.’ He cried, and I 
would have clasped him to my heart, but for the future, 
and my word. I always keep my ^ word good. From 
that day he respected me, and we discovered how 
deeply and purely we loved each other — how insep- 
arable our interests were.” 

Years afterward, at the Christmas dinner, Mrs. Lindsay 
looked from under her white cap and spectacles upon 
her noble sons and daughters, and said, My children, 
for what you are, thank God for one day at Willow 
Place, and the words of precious Alice Macdonald.” 

Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, 

To teach the young idea how to shoot ; 

To pour the fresh instruction o’er the mind, 

To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix 
The generous purpose in the glowing breast.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


THE HANK BOOK AND FAREWELL. 

HE READER knows Macdonald did an extensive 



business in furs. Among the agents of foreign 


fur houses was a Frenchman by birth, one Mr. Dupont, 
who made Macdonald’s his head-quarters in Scotland, 
and where he left all surplus fur, to be sold on com- 
mission. Dupont liked Andy — liked the bright expression 
of honest thought that shone in every feature, and 
rang in every word. A student of human nature, he felt 
Andy’s hardships, and said to him one day, “ Andy, your 
father receives a commission on the fur sold while I 
am away. Let it be secretly understood between us, 
that the commission is doubled on all that you sell, and 
that you are to deduct your share.” 

Andy’s eyes flashed with the light hope and 
gratitude as he said, ‘‘ Thank you, Mr. Dupont.” 

Andy told Maccullum, and they had no difficulty in 
selling the fur left over. From this time Andy had his 
‘‘ Bank-book,” and deposited his share of the commis- 
sion after every sale. This was a proud day for An- 
dy. He knew not what was before him, and began 
to feel strong in his money. He craved knowledge — 
felt that he would not be long in the shop, and was 


88 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


glad over the poor little figures in his precious bank- 
book. 

Uncle John,” he said, ^‘only for my mother and 
Bob, and Anny and you, I’d run away and go to sea.” 

“Ye micht, an na fare warse,” said Maccullum; 
“but ye ken, Andy, na captain ’ll dare tak ye, unless 
yer father gies consent.” 

“ I’d hide away,” said Andy. 

“Not noo, Andy; not noo ; bide yer time. God will 
tak care o’ the time.” 

“No, not now, uncle John; but my heart is so 
heavy — it is so dark sometimes.” 

“ I ken it a’, but ye must na grieve,” said uncle 
John. 

Andy kept his thoughts a secret ; was brave and 
cheerful in duty, and glorious in all the Scotch games; 
loved Bob, who was frail, and loved little Amy; and 
Alice brooded, in her grand love, over them all. She 
did not know what Peggie told Jeanie; but she knew 
God was calling her, and gave all that she was to her 
darling children. 

Long afterward these days grew magnificent, when 
their beauty blossomed and fruited, as the words of Je- 
sus did, which Mary had hidden away in her heart. 

One evening the children were alone with Alice, 
and the hours were full of peace. “There was a 
great calm ” all at once. She placed around Andy’s 
neck a silk chain, to which was attached a miniature 
of herself, mounted in gold — told Robbie in a playful 




THE 

, BANK 

BOOK 

AND FAREWELL. 

89 

way 

that 

her 

watch 

should 

be his. 

and said. 

Amy 

shall 

have 

my 

ring.” 

When 

Peggie 

came for 

the chil- 


dren, to light them to their rooms, Alice said, ^^Good 
night, my children, my precious jewels; dearer to me than 
the apple of my eye;” and she drew each one to her 
heart with an unusual fervor, and gave a devouring look 
and kiss, which the boys remembered well. 

After they retired, Alice wrote 

A DYING MOTHER’S VICTORY. 

Jesus, how precious now, 

To know Thou art my all; 

And sightest all the falling birds, 

Just WHEN and where they fall, 

Jesus, my eyes grow dim 

With love of THESE and Thee; 

Betwixt two lo^'^es I straitened am— 

Thou must decide for me. 

Forgive my weakness. Lord ! 

A cup of myrrh Is mine. 

Motherless children ! but I yield. 

I have no will, but Thine. 

Didst mention “ mansions,” Lord, 

Above my murky sky ; 

Where I and mine shall dwell ?— 

Lord, I can live, or die ! 

Opened the gate of pearl ! — 

The mother passed alone ; 

But the same glory which she gained, 

Down on her children shone. 


90 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Macdonald returned later than usual from the Club/’ 
where the doctrine of immortality had been voted a 
‘Melusion, and a snare.” He came softly into the room, 
not wishing to awake his wife, who, exhausted by the 
composition, had fallen into a peaceful slumber. Mac- 
donald’s sharp, quick glance, told him that Alice was 
seriously sick, and he ran to bring the family physician. 
Dr. Wilbergh. 

Dr. Wilbergh was a very learned, skillful physician 
and kind-hearted gentleman, who did a thousand beau- 
tiful deeds among the well-conditioned and lowly. He 
was not secretive; did not take on an air of knowledge 
of a serious issue, which unnecessarily alarmed, but 
was frank and manly ; explained the cause of the 
trouble, and so put to flight the thronging fears of a 
morbid imagination. Often his c'.ieering presence healed 
more than his medicine, which was a simple herb, 
covered by some ponderous Latin name, when he saw the 
trouble was in the jaded mind. Was the case serious ? 
Then skill and courage never fought a bolder, braver, 
more patient fight, until either he or Death stood master 
of the field. Thus had he treated Macdonald’s family? 
since first engaged ; and in ^ all the stages of Alice’s 
melancholy disease, consumption, he frankly answered 
all her questions. In one thing only was he mistaken 
more than she — he thought that she would last longer 
than she did. 

Hearing the bell, he asked, “ Who is there ?” 

‘‘ Macdonald !” was the quick reply. 


THE BANK BOOK AND FAREWELL. 9 1 

‘MVhat is wanted?” said the doctor. 

Alice is very ill — come quickly,” said Macdonald. 

Soon Dr. Wilbergh stood by the sinking wife, counted 
the pulse, watched the labored breathing for a few 
moments, and then strove to create a reaction by 
stimulants, but in vain. At length, seeing how futile 
was his great skill, he took Macdonald gently by the 
hand, led him aside, and said, Mr. Macdonald, I fear 
the worst has come !” 

“Dying!” said > Macdonald, “is Alice dying?” And 
the strong man trembled, and bowed his head on the 
doctor’s shoulder. He loved Alice more and better 
than he knew. 

All who stood there in that vestibule of God’s city, 
were deeply impressed with the dying mother’s exceeding 
loveliness. It seemed more like the still moment of a 
coronation, before the outburst of some grand anthem, 
than the hour of death. Peace, forgiveness, trust and 
hope, found wonderful expression in her countenance. 

Taking Macdonald feebly by the hand, she whispered, 
“ My dear husband, farewell 1 I doubt not. I — I hioiu 
whom I have believed, and am persua .... the child — ” 

Silence reigned, save when broken by the deep sobs 
of Peggie and Jeanie, and by the tolling of the great 
old clock. Just at that moment, when the mellow 
light of day touched the turret of Willow Place, 
Alice Macdonald, God’s daughter, “ fell asleep.” There 
was sorrow at the shop, and in Edinburgh, where she was 
buried. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


DISAPPOINTMENT, AND A NIGHT IN THE 
S H I P - Y A R D . 

I F MY READERS SUPPOSE that Andrew Mac- 
donald’s tenderness towards his motherless children 
will now be emphasized, they are mistaken. With him, 
gentleness was weakness ; and when he felt its influence 
he smothered it as unworthy. A godless man is incap- 
able of the highest expression of tenderness, because he 
ignores the divine paternity — the eternal Source of love. 
The boys, however, had four firm friends in Glasgow — 
John Maccullum and his wife, Peggie Dunbar, and Jeanie 
Butler. 

Little Amy Burns Macdonald was taken to Edin- 
burgh, and the old home there was again brightened. 
For the boys’ sake, Peggie and Jeanie tarried at Wil- 
low Place, and uncle John Maccullum had them often 
down at his house, and told them of his early strug- 
gles and travels, and to be of good cheer, for God 
had something for them to do in the world. Aunty 
Libby was very gentle, and bustled about lest they 
should see her tears, and treated them to stories and 
tarts, and made her home bright for them, as well 
as for J ohn. But the boys were anxious ; talked much 
together, as earnest boys will, over what they should do 
and be; walked along the Clyde; read the names of the 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


93 


ships, and questioned the sailors about other lands and 
ports ; and so their hearts were kindled and emboldened 
with hope of a brighter destiny. 

It was finally decided between them, that Bob 
should hide away among the boxes and barrels, on 
board of some ship bound for New York, and thus 
escape from the coldness of him who should have been 
their shield. Such a ship they found, and at midnight, 
in the shadow of it, Andy said Good-bye, Bob !” 

Good-bye, Andy !” said Bob ; and his voice was 
mellow, and his thin lips quivered. Oh, it was hard to 
raise anchor against Andy ! 

As Andy passed along towards home, a watchman 
said, ‘‘ Ma laddie, what for d’ye cry ?” 

He kept up bravely while with Bob, but now he 
could not speak, and went on through the silent streets 
to Willow Place. 

The ship sailed. The sailors soon found Bob ; scold- 
ed, but liked him, and concealed him in the forecastle, 
intending to intercede for him with the captain, when 
a few days out; but on the second day of their voy- 
age, the ship was disabled in a terrible gale, and 
obliged to work slowly back to Glasgow. 

Andy had told Maccullum all about Bob — how and 
whither he had gone; and when uncle John read in 
the Glasgow Times ” of the return of the disabled 
ship, he informed Andy. Poor Andy ! what could he, a 
boy, do to shelter his brother ? He was utterly helpless, 
and could only suffer with him. 


94 


SUNSHINI-: AMONc; THE CLOUDS. 


Macdonald was terribly enraged when he discoverep 
that Bob had run away; and warned Peggie, Jeanie 
and Andy against harboring him in any way whatever, 
should he return,. In great distress, Andy went to 
uncle John and said. “ What shall I do, uncle John; 
I must take care of Bob.’' 

“ Gang along the docks after sundoon,” said Mac- 
cullum ; “ the laddie ’ll be waiting for ye, ye ken that ? 
an’ if ye canna find him yersel, ask a watchman it 
a laddie’s crep’t in ony o’ the boxes. An Andy, Bob 
must na see yer tears! Be cheerfu i’ the face an word, 
moind.” 

Andy enquired of a sailor on board the ship, if he 
had seen a boy whose name was “ Bob,” who had 
been on board. 

Faith, then, I did,” said the sailor, and by the 

looks of ye, you’re the Andy he spake about. I se- 
crated him in the forecastle, I did; and whin we got 

back, I sacretly put him on the dock, and he rin aff — 
good luck to him!” 

Do you know where he is now, sailor ?” 

‘‘ Niver a bit. I tould him to be aff wid him, 

or he’d be arristed on the spot, and aff he rin - — God 
bless his swate face ! ” 

Andy turned sorrowfully away, and asked a watch- 
man by the gate of a great ''hip-yard, whether he had 
noticed a boy creep into any of the hiding-places about. 

Yes,” said the man, “ a laddie came alang sob' 
bing, an T says, ‘ what for d’ye greet sae sair, ma lad- 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


95 


die an he said, ‘I got no home — can T sleep in 

one of the boxes ? ’ (Bob knew that he must not go 
to Willow Place.) '‘The Lord bless ye/ I said, ‘go 
into the ship-yard ; ’ an he went back into the yard 
yonner, an I’ll guard him awhile.” 

Andy said, “Thank you sir,” and, touching his cap 
politely, passed into the dark, chip-littered yard, and 
came to a very large pile of old decaying lumber 
which had been stripped from ships when in dry-dock 
for repairs, and thrown so carelessly together that places 
had been formed into which two or three boys might 
easily creep, and be protected from the damp, chilly 
night . air, or fog from the river. Indeed, there was 
evidence in the shavings and dry crusts of bread on the 
ground, that they had been used as lodging places before 
this eventful night. 

While Andy wa.s standing by the lumber, peering 
into the darkness, and listening, th e voice of prayer 
fell on his ear, and of course he knew whose voice 
it was and Andy said afterward, “ it never had seemed 
to him so sweet before.” He listened. Bob said “ Our 
Father which art in heaven, give me this day my 
daily bread.” [A sob !] “ Oh, my darling mother ! why 
did you go ? ” “ Deliver me ! ” “ Andy ! ” “ O Lord 

bring Andy to me.” “ Mother said Thou wert our 
‘elder brother.’ Bring Andy, for the sake of Jesus 
Christ, who didn’t have a place to lay His head.” 
Bob’s voice then broke completely down, and his 
guardian angel said “ Amen.” 




96 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘‘Bob! Bob!” called Andy cheerily. He had been 
crying, but remembering uncle John’s words, brushed 
away the tears, and spoke cheerfully. 

“ Brother Andy, is that you ?” said Bob, as soon 
as he could talk a little bravely. 

“ Yes, Bob, of course it’s me ; how are you ? Did 
ye think I would’nt be seeking and finding you ?” 

“ I knew you’d be seekmg; but come in. Creep in 
here ; there’s room for us two.” 

“Let’s go down to uncle John’s,” said Andy. 

“ No,” replied Bob, “ not to-night. Come in. While 
I was praying, a wonderful peace came over me, 
and a bright light shone all around me, like sun- 
shine ; and, Andy, I felt dear mothet^s hand on my 
face — so it seemed to me — soft and beautiful, just 
as it used to be, you know.” 

Andy crept in, and when Bob had eaten the bread 
and cheese sent by Aunty Libby, the brothers laid 
down on the shavings saying, “Ain’t this jolly ” and told 
each other what had occurred since they parted; and 
finally concluded to go by uncle John’s advice, which 
they would get on the morrow. They were not un- 
happy — more happy were they than many boys living 
in luxury in the city — and nearer to God were they. 

The lads awoke early in the morning, and joked 
about “Hotel de Lumber,” its accommodations, and 
economical scale of prices. When about leaving, Andy 
glanced through the chinks into another open space, 
and met the eyes of another boy. He was clad in 


DISAPPOINTMENT. 


97 


ragged garments, each too large ; but his brow was 
noble, and his eyes large and very beautiful. 

Boy, what is your name ?” said Andy. 

‘‘Tom! ” 

“Tom what?” said Andy. 

“Tom Dalton,” replied the boy. 

“ Where is your mother ?” 

“ Mother’s dead,” said the boy. 

“ Where is your father ?” 

“ I dont know,” said the boy, sadly. 

“ Where do you sleep ?” said Andy. 

“ Here — and when it rains, under the stoops. Got 
no home.” 

“ What do you do for a living ?” 

“ Sell newspapers, shine boots, carry bundles — any- 
thing I can get to do; but I never beg. I \inow you; 
and that boy Bob, I know him; seen you both — been 
near you many a time. Will you both be my brothers ?” 

The boys shook hands, having pulled away a block 
to make room. 

“Good morning’ll cheerily cried Tom; “must be off 
to business;” and was gone in an instant. 

We may meet Tom Dalton again. There are many 
Tom Daltons; and each one is asking my kind reader, 
“ Will you be my brother ?” 

“ Are we not creatures of one hand divine ; 

Kindred alike, where’er our skies may shine ?” 

There are more jewels unseen under the King’s feet, 
than are shining in His crown. “Which . . . was neighbor?’’ 
5 


CHAPTER XXI V. 


BOB INDENTURE D S AILS AWAY. 

A ndy told MACULLUM the situation. ‘‘Weel,” 
said the foreman, Bob will gang tae the 
sea, an I’ll tell Macdonald he maun indenture him.” 

Maccullum told Macdonald the whole truth, and said, 
“If ye dinna care for the laddie as a father suld, be a 
mon, an sign the papers o’ indenture. Let him go awa.” 

Macdonald did not care to wake up the foreman 
just then; said “yes,” and turned impatiently to Iiis let- 
ters, one of which troubled him The sea begins 

to get a little rough ! 

Bob was shipped as a cabin boy, on a ship plying 
between Glasgow and New York. 

Andy was downhearted the next morning, he missed 
Bob so much — more than ever. Peggie and Jeanie saw 
it, and tried to throw light upon his clouds. After 
his breakfast he said “Good morning, Peggie and Jeanie,” 
in an appreciating way; went to the bridge; stood and 
looked down over the railing at the dark, troubled 
waters, and sent some tears out with them to Bob. 

While standing there, Andy felt a hand laid kindly 
on his shoulder; turned, and saw John Maccullum’s great 
V opOn face beaming on him. 


BOB INDENTURED — JTATLS AWAY. 


99 


“ Hae coom to meet ye, Andy,” cheerily said uncle 
John. I kent verra wee! ye’d be oot o’ hairt tha 

morning, an ye mustna be. Yer father’s oot o’ toon. 
I hae got a’ things richt i’ the shop, an we’ll tak a 
walk.” 

“ I wish I was with Bob,” said Andy, choking up. 
The sea is kinder than my — ” 

“ Aweel ! ye dinna ken the sea, Andy — the deep rough 
sea — but it maun be brighter cnm' it. Cheer up noo! — 
the sun shines bright, Andy. Ye hae friends who love 
ye, true friends — myself. Aunty Libby, Peggie, Jeanie> 
the folks i’ the shop, mony folks who kent yer mother, 
an God ! Ye hae got grand friends, Andy ! But coom, 
eneuch o’ this noo — let’s tak the walk.” 

They walked through the grassy lanes, along the 
hedges, heard the birds sing, and the lowing of the oxen, 
talked with the farmers’ lads and lassies, until the sky 
cleared, and the bright sun of hope shone in Andy’s 
heart. 

It is good to go out into God’s sunshine when 
the brain is hot and the heart sad. There is rest in 
the quiet of the fields, and relief in the shadow of the 
rocks. God the Father is everywhere. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


bob’s return. 



HREE MONTHS after Bob sailed, the Glas- 


gow Times ’• announced the arrival home of 


the Highland Mary.” The boys were glad to greet 
each other again ; sat down by the great anchor, and 
talked over what had occurred. 

After Andy had answered Bob’s many questions 
about all their friends, he said, Well, Bob, how did 
you get along?” 

Sadly, Andy, at first. I was so sick, and only a 
burden; and when night came, I wished I was with you, 
under the old boards in the ship-yard. I often think of 
that night, Andy. When I got better, we were tossed 
about by a terrible storm. The waves ran as high as 
the store, and I was so cold ! — almost frozen. You see I 
had only this thin jacket, and couldn’t get warm; but 
somehow I think it was mother’s God spoke to* an old 
sailor — Jack Faithful, they called him — and he put that 
heavy pea-jacket you see yonder on me, saying, ‘ Bob, 
this was my boy’s jacket — my boy’s, who died on board 
this ship three years gone by. I love the very holes in 
it, but I’ll give it to you. Now don’t blubber!’ I was 
crying, brother — crying for the cold — and his hand on me, 


bob’s return. lOi 

and the big tears in his eyes; and then I got warm, real 
warm; and after that I did not suffer so much. After a 
rough passage, we sighted the land; and I was glad 
when we sailed through the ‘ N arrows ’ into one of the 
most beautiful harbors in the world. On either side are 
bluffs ; and when the morning sunbeams touched the 
bluffs and the water, glory shone all around us. It was 
charming. Eight miles up, where two rivers unite — 
the East and North — the city stands; and it appeared 
so like paradise, in the sunlight, I thought I might meet 
our dear mother there. On Sunday morning — I knew 
what she wanted me to do — I went to a church in 
John street; and in the afternoon, to the Brick Church 
near the City Hall Park. The preacher’s name is Spring — 
Dr. Spring they called him — and the people were all as 
big as one another; I didn’t see any difference. The 
sexton put me by the ^ Elder,’ in a front pew, and the 
gentleman said, ‘ God bless you, my Scotch boy ! ’ and 
was as tender as though mother had told him all about 
me. I think she did, Andy; though I don’t understand 
these things. I said, ^ Did you know my mother, sir ?’ 
He said, ^ No, my boy; but I know her Lord, I think: 
do you ? I hope you do ! ” 

Well, Andy, as soon as our ship was unloaded 
and reloaded, we sailed ; and here we are, safe and 
sound. But, Andy, I’m not coming back any more. 
When I get to New York again, I shall run away, ^and 
go to Haldane’s, mother’s cousin — up in Caliada, you 
know.” 


102 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


“ Will you leave me here alone, Bob ?” said Andy. 
“Yes” — and you must follow,” said Bob. “We 
have the right to be together anywhere ! ” 

Andy’s face brightened, and he said, “ Bob, it’s a 
bargain. ‘ Brothers Macdonald.’ How will that do for a 
sign? ^Brothers Macdonald, Importers; Hat and Fur 
Dealers, AVholesale and Retail’ — and no ^ Co.' Hur- 
rah!” 

“ Hark ! ” whispered Bob, “ the bell strikes one. 
Let’s go down into the forecastle — my bunk is big 
enough for two. Pray, Andy ! ” 

The boys bowed down together, and Andy said, 

“ Now I lay me down to sleep, 

I pray the Lord my soul to keep ; 

If I should die before I wake, 

I pray the Lord my soul to take.” 


And the Lord laid His right hand on Andy’s head 
and His left on Bob’s, and never took them up. 

“ Doth God take care for oxen ?” Are “ two spar- 
rows sold for a farthing ?” and doth not God “ know where 
one of them falls?” — “Fear not; ye are of more value 
than many sparrows.” It were better for any man 
that he were dragged down into the sea by a mill- 
stone, than that he should lay heavy hands on these 

boys. Secluded in the dingy room of the crowded 

city, or doing her work in the plain cottage on the 

bleak hillside, the mother may trust her absent boy 

with God. God has got the care of a great many 




bob’s return. 103 

of them, and He will not break His promise to the 
committing heart. 

“ I know not what the future hath 
• Of marvel or surprise ; 

Assured alone that life and death, 


His mercy underlies.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


NO MORE SEA. 

W HEN The Highland Mary ” again reached 
New York, Bob told Jack Faithful his intention. 
Said Jack, I don’t believe in’ running away, as a 
principle. Bob, as I told Dick Blunder when he ran 
away with Becky Blossom ; but do it, if you’ve deter- 
mined to do it, and I won’t’ ‘blow on you,’ if they 
iron me; no, I won’t. I say. Bob,” he continued softly — 
“hate to let you go, I do. Just like my boy. God’s 
got him, pretty head” — Jack drew his coat sleeve 

aero 3 his eyes — “ who died on this old arm, 

right here! But God’s got him, and I’m lonesome! — 
so lonesome ! Here boy, here’s four shillings — wish it 
was more — last shot in the locker ! W rite to old J ack 
Faithful, will ye?” 

“ Yes, ” said Bob ; “ and when I get to be Presi- 
dent, I’ll make you Admiral, and run out the ‘pea- 

jacket ’ for a banner.” 

“ Will ye now ?” said the old sailor. “ God love ye ! ” 
“It was dark when Bob ran down the rope-ladder 
and whispered good-bye to old Jack. He walked 
along the river, asking God to lead him, until he 
came to the “ Battery,” at that time a most beautiful 


BOB. 






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NO MORE SEA. 


105 

and fashionable park, when he asked a policeman the 
direction to a respectable inn. 

Go over yonder to Pearl street, and go up until 
you come to 'Joe Morgan’s,’” said the watchman kindly. 

Bob went as directed, and Joe Morgan stood in 
the doorway. 

" Can I lodge here ?” said Bob. 

" Guess so — who am you ?” 

" Robert Macdonald, of Glasgow, sir ! ” 

“Jist cum?” queried Morgan. 

" Yes, sir, just arrived ; just left the ship,” said Bob. 

" Run’d away ?” said Morgan, in a tone of voice that 
said "you can trust me.” 

"Yes, sir,” replied Bob, and his bright blue eye 
twinkled — an eye that makes friends on sight. The eye 
reflects the soul. 

" Cum in, cum in,” said old Joe heartily, after searching 
him a moment more. "Haggerty, wake up there! Here, 
take this boy to No. 20 ; and use him well, mind ! ” 

Bob has found a friend. At first sight, Morgan loved 
the runaway. 

Having said " Our Father, bless Andy and uncle 
John, and all of them,” Bob laid his weary head on 
the downy, white pillow, and slept as peacefully as if 
in his mother’s arms. And he was, and " Under- 

neath are the everlasting arms.” 

Bob was up with the birds in the morning, which 
pleased old Joe, (old Joe was an early bird), and out 
on the " Battery.” City and bay and distant hills of 


I 06 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Staten Island, Long Island, and Orange, were flooded 
with glory. With rosy cheeks he returned to Morgan’s 
for breakfast, which he ate with a relish, and said, when 
through, What am I to pay, Mr. Morgan ?” 

S’pose I give it ye ?” said Morgan, testing him. 
He scorned the beggar spirit. 

Rather pay,” replied Bob. ‘ Business is busines,s’ 
my mother used to say.” 

Would, hey ? Wants to be 7na7ily. Right glad to 
hear ye say so. Ain’t no beggar ! Well ; two shillen’ — 
be’n’s a matter o’ business ’twixt us two.” 

Bob paid the money, suspecting old Joe was beating 
himself down. 

Where ye goin’, enyhows ?” asked Morgan. “ ’Pears 
to me, York’s the place fur you^ • 

To Canada, Mr. Morgan. I’m bound to my cousin 
Haldane’s, in Canada.” 

‘‘^Canedy!’ No foolin, boy! Can’t get there! Tain’t 
no use tryin’. How much pewter hev ye ? Mighty 
long road. Big snakes, bears, ’nd wild cats there.” 

‘‘Two shillings — got two shillings, Mr. Morgan,” re- 
plied Bob. 

“ Two shillin ! Coin’ to Canedy on two shillin ?” Old 
Joe shook with laughter. “Two shillin! Golly! Two — 
golly!” 

“Tell me the way, please,” said Bob, smiling. 

“Oh, you be goin, then? Well, go to the Battery; 
then go up river till you come to a shingle — ‘ Boat 
for Albany’ — then cum back to grub, mind! t)’ye hear?” 


NO MORE SEA. 


107 

“Thank you; good-bye, Mr. Morgan. Never forget 
you as long as I live,” said Bob. 

“Boy! here! — come back! — lend ye two shillin ” — 
and bluff old Joe Morgan pushed a silver dollar into 
Bob's pocket, and said, “ Go now ; and mind, grub’ll be 
ready at twelve o’clock, sharp. 

Bob went out. Morgan walked uneasily up and 
down the floor, where on the turn he had worn it 
almost away. While walking, he said to himself, “ Be 
back? course he’ll be back to grub; boys like grub — 
’taint no use goin’ pass York. What in natur kin he 
do in Canedy ? Course he’ll be back, and I’ll hire — 
no, ^dcpt him — h’aint got no boy. Blame me, I let ’m 
go ! Here, Haggerty ! quick, ye ‘ Er’n-go-brah ! ’ my 
boots ! quick ! ” 

Old Joe waddled to the door, but Bob was out 
of sight. Sitting down again in his great arm-chair 
he said, “ Blame me ! he’ll be back to grub ; course he 
will — two shillin’ Yanky Doodle-doo.” 

Twelve o’clock came, the gong was sounded, and 
Morgan went to the door, and looked up and then 
looked down the street with a disappointed look. Bob 
was nowhere in sight. Impatiently he sat down to 
his dinner, saying, “Joe Morgan’s a fool! blast if he 
ain’t. He’d better go back to the Green Mount’n, where 
he was born. Green? — guess, he is! I’ll fix him — 
that boy.” 

With this word he filled a plate with beef and 
vegetables, enough for two men, and said, “ Mrs Mor- 


I08 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

gan — Kate — here! put this dinner in the oven, and keep 
it pip’n hot for Bob of No. 20, jist gone out a few 
minutes — a few. Kate, IVe ’dopted a boy!” 

“ He won’t be back agin, Mr. Morgan,” said Kate, 
his wife — ‘^’dopted a boy?” 

Be back ! — course he will ! ’Taint no use goin to 
Canedy on two shillin. No use goin’ pass York ; York 
is the place to be in. Blame me, Joe Morgan’s a 
fool ! blast if he ain’t. Cum from the Green Mountains ? 
’Spect ‘Er’n-go-brah ’ mor’n I do Joe Morgan, jist now, 
Git off, Tige, ye dog ; lay down ! ” 

Bob met with like kindness on board the steamboat, 
from captain, clerk, and the “ hands, ” and found great 
pleasure in the beautiful views that all the while burst 
upon him, in the grandeur of highlands and mountains, and 
the beauty of sky, cloud and valley. Having reached 
Albany, he enquired the way to Buffalo, and was told 
to follow the “ tow-path,” which he found and followed 
until noon, when, tired, hungry and homesick, he sat 
down on a log near a Day Boat Barn,” and cried. 
The captain of a lake-boat was standing in front of 
the ^^barn,” and observing the boy in evident dis- 
tress, called to him to come and have some dinner. 
Bob rose, and went and shared with the kind-hearted 
man his lunch. While eating, the captain said, Where, 
my boy, are you going ?” 

To Canada, please sir,” said Bob. 

Are you going to walk ?” said the captain. 

‘Wes, sir,” said Bob; “no other way.” 


NO MORE SEA. 


109 


You are ? Will you drive my horses ?” 

•‘‘I have never driven horses, sir; but I’ll try,” said 
Bob, “ if you will run the risk.” 

That’s the talk, boy ! ” said the hero of the canal. 
‘‘You’ve got the rale grit, and I’ll hire you. Grit is the 
stuff — you’ll CO.” 

Bob was employed on the spot. It was new and 
difficult business for him, especially when he met another 
boat; then he had a trial indeed, which gave him a les- 
son that helped him in a different “ tow-path” in life. 
But he passed safely by, obeying directions. 

If boys would only obey wise directions, the lines 
of their life would not get so tangled as they do. 
There would be more successful, honorable and happy 
men than there are. Obedience is Heaven’s first law. 
Lack of pluck, grit, and the obedient, patient spirit, is 
the ruin of thousands. Self-reliance, push, and trust in 
God, are better than an inheritance of silver. 

When the boat stopped again. Bob was told to take 
the horses to a “ Day-boat Barn,” throw off the harness, 
and feed them. When called, Bob did not come. The 
captain went to the “ barn,” found the harness all 
unbuckled and Bob crying, and trying in vain to get it 
together. The captain scolded some, laughed more, and 
instructed him well. Buffalo was reached, and Toronto, 
and the New Settlement, and Haldane’s; where the 
warmest welcome was given him — such a welcome as 
makes a habitation a home. Bob soon became a favor- 
ite among the settlers, and, as they saw his honesty. 


no 

A 

SUNSHINE AMONG " THE CLOUDS. 

\ 

industry 

• 

make a 

and intelligence, they said, Bob Macdonald will 
man” — and he did. 


“ Is there for honest poverty, 

Wha hangs his head, and a’ that 

The coward slave, we pass him by ; 

We dare be poor for a’ that. 

For a’ that and a’ that. 

Our toils obscure, and a’ that ; 

The rank is but the guinea’s stamp — 

The man’s the gowd for a’ that.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


JOHN MACCULLUM INTERCEDES FOR ANDY. 

S INCE we were in the Glasgow shop. Andy has 

many severe conflicts — conflicts of authority, and 
conflicts excited by the debates in the club-room, to which 
he was forced to go — conflicts of mind and heart. Years 
afterward, Andy fought over and over again the battle 
begun in that miserable hall. But the endangered boy 
was helped by the character of the atheists — drifting they 
knew not whither — the preaching in the kirk, his mothe:*’s 
strong, sweet life, and the tender care that Peggie, Jeanie, 
and John Maccullum and wife gave him. Yet Andy was 
restless, and hungered for his brother every day. 

Maccullum saw it, consulted with his friends, and 
concluded that Andy had better go to Bob, and go im- 
mediately. But Macdonald objected; and who could 
argue the matter with him? None but uncle John; and 
he said, I ken how to ship Andy to America, an 
Macdonald kens.” God opened the way. 

“ Maccullum,” said Macdonald, ‘‘ meet me in the 
office to-night. I have something important to say.” 

Night came, and the foreman stood in the presence 
of the master, respectfiil, but self-possessed. 


112 


.SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘^The wages of the men must be largely reduced 
said Macdonald, bluntly; “and right away.” 

“An what for?” asked the foreman. 

“ Going to bankruptcy ! — and I want no words about 
it,” said Macdonald decidedly. 

“ I dinna ken how,” said Maccullum. 

“ Foster & Brothers, of London, have failed, and we 
lose largely,” said Macdonald, with a wicked word and 
angry tone. 

“ I’m sorra,” said the foreman, “ but I ken verra weel 
ye maun do better than tak doon the wages o’ the men; 
an the men wuldna wark, if ye did. When by yer own 
order the saxpence was taen awa fra them last year, they 
said, ^ We’ll do the richt, an na mair, if we starve' Ye 
canna get bluid where there’s water only, ye ken; an 
ye’d better not try to mak up yer loss oot o’ the wages 
o’ the men — na, na ! Bear wi’ me, sir. Ye ken I never 
turned ma back on yer interests. I hae been faithfu’. 
Save the rent o’ the hall, sir, and keep fra the gamblers 
yersel, an ye’ll gang alang well eneuch.” 

Macdonald advanced upon the foreman with fierce 
invective, as if to strike. Maccullum calmly said, “ Hae 
done, hae done, sir ! ” and the wretched man sank back, 
beaten, in his chair. 

“I’ll na leave ye^ nor yer bairn,” tenderly contin- 
ued the foreman ; “ an ye must na be hard yersel’ on 
Andy, yer son ; but pay his passage to America. The 
winter o’ yer life is cooming on, sir, an the laddie ’d 
better na stay till the worst coom. Ye canna help 


JOHN MACCULLUM INTERCEDES FOR ANDY. II3 

the past^ but ye can ask forgieness o’ God ; an we 
a’ need forgieness. Ye haena done richt wi’ the wife 
an laddies, but God is mair mercifu’ to us than we are 
to each other.” 

I curse your God ! ” said Macdonald defiantly. I 
could make a better God.” 

Will ye let Andy gang awa ? He’s hungry for 
Bob ; what for suld ye deny him ?” said Maccullum 
firmly. 

“ He shall go, now,” broke out Macdonald ; he shall 
go, and I’ll buy the ticket. I’ve no further use for 
him — we are bankrupt ! ! ” 

The poor man rose and paced the office floor back and 
forth, perfectly wretched. He was not a bankrupt; but 
his enormous pride had been touched that day at the 
bank. 

God bless ye, sir,” said the foreman very tenderly ; 

Andy cooms o’ a guid bluid, and ye’ll yet be proud 
o’ him, sir. Ye’ll gie him a chance i’ the new warld 
noo. He’s a bonny laddie, that he is! Ye’ll be proud 
o’ him yet.” 

Macdonald turned to his desk in a calmer mood. 

* 

The foreman stood in the doorway, and said, How 
about the wages ? ” 

Good night, John,” said Macdonald. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


TOUCHING SCENES. 

A ndy was surprised, and wonderea whether 
his father did not regret the past. He loved his 
father, and regretted to leave him, notwithstanding all the 
coldness he had felt. 

Just then Macdonald himself came up to his son, 
and said, “ I consent to your going away to America, 
and will pay your fare, Andrew. Get ready ! ” 

“I will stay, if you say so, my father; although I 
think I had better go to Bob. Forgive me, if I have 
displeased you,’’ said Andy. 

There is an impassable gulf between us. You are 
a Puritan ; you can go.” 

‘‘If you ever need me, my father, you need only 
send me word. I will hasten to your side from dis- 
tant America; and so will Bob.” 

Macdonald went on without noticing the craving love 
of this appeal. 

Andy was dismissed. It cut him to the quick, and 
the boy cried as though his heart would break ; but 
God built him for battle ; and he knew that he must 
go right on, although he could not tell why his life’s 
unwinding thread should become so knotted — why this 


TOUCHING JSCENES. 


II5 


bitter experience. He was conscious of reserved forces ; 
and mature thoughts and visions of peace and power 
often burst in splendor upon him. How all his dream 
could he realized, he could not tell. One thing how- 
ever was clear to him — he must go right on; and he 
did. In the still deep of a great soul, great things were 
forming, as when the Spirit brooded over the face of the 

t 

deep. 

Long-remembered hours were spent at Willow Place, 
especially in the room where his doting mother died 
“How sunny is this place!” he said — buried his face 
in the pillow where her head had rested, and sobbed 
aloud, “My mother! oh, my mother!” 

With Peggie and Jeanie he pleasantly talked, and 
thanked them, over and over again, for their unwearied 
patience and watchful devotion toward him and Bob. 
“ If he should become rich, he would send them 
a cargo of Avheat — or if they should marry and come 
out to America, he would settle them on a splendid 
farm, and they shouldn’t have to work in their old 
age.” So the boy’s heart talked, and what could the 
women do, but laugh and cry ? . 

He went down to Aunty Libby’s to supper, and she 
turned aside and wiped her eyes with the corner of 
her apron, when he called her “ mother.” 

“ I dinna ken how ye mak’ that oot,” she said. 

“ Bob and I know. Aunty. Think of the cakes, and 
milk, and kind words ! Bob and I know ! When we 
wrestled and turned the chairs over, broke the tea-pot 


I I 6 , SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

and spilled the pepper on the plum-pudding, you said 
‘ laddies ’ll be laddies.’ One night Bob had a fever, and 
you put us to bed, and put mustard draughts on Bob's 
feet, as you thought. It was stinging cold. Bob put one 
foot down, outside the blanket, and I one ; and we called 
you back and asked you why you had fixed only one of 
Bob’s feet? You said we were ‘ awfu’ laddies, an suld 
be touched wi a rod,’ and then kissed us three times! 
You’re a dear good mother, if you arn’t handsome; which 
uncle John says you are. Good-bye, mother Maccullum, 
good-bye ; we’ll meet again, some to-morrow.” 

Andy now bethought him of his bank-book, and con- 
cluded to go boldly and get it. His father saw him, and 
demanded it. Maccullum delivered book and boy; and 
some of the money was spent on his true dear friends, 
and the rest for necessities. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


FOR A NEW WORLD. 

M ACCULLUM, and wife, Peggie and Jeanie, 
and people from the shop, came down to the ship 
to say good-bye, and sadly they said it. Slowly the ship 
sailed out with the tide, and Andy waved his signal back 
to those of his friends as long as they could be seen, 
and then he looked at his ticket. Alas! it was a steerage 
ticket 1 Poor Andy ! Only a steerage ticket ! 

Captain Libner was a noble, great-hearted man ; had 
crossed the sea in all directions, and anchored in every 
port. It was not deemed dishonorable to take the grog, 
but he never took it; accustomed to hear all manner 
of vulgar language, he never used it. “Lead us not 
into temptation,” was his daily prayer, and “deliver us 
from evil;” and he thought that he must “watch” him- 
self. On Sabbath day he led divine service on ship- 
board, when the weather permitted; and, when in port, 
invited other sailors near by to attend. Captain Lib- 
ner led these services with grave dignity and touching 
simplicity; could sing in his way, and was a good reader, 
and wonderful in prayer. He was an open-hearted, 
true man; trusted by merchants and beloved by sailors, 
and the pride of his native town and his family. 


Il8 SUNSHINE AMOm; THE CLOUDS. 

Mr. Moreland had noticed and been pleased with 
Andy in the shop in Glasgow, and with great surprise 
saw him among the passengers, and. dismayed beheld 
him go down into the steerage. 

Captain Libner,” said Moreland — a noole young 
merchant — ^ “ a boy whose name is Andrew Macdonald 
has just gone down into the steerage, to my sorrow and 
surprise, and 1 want you to befriend him — he is a 
remarkably intelligent and fine boy.” 

“ I noticed him,” said the captain, and intended 
to attend to him soon. I will call him up before 
night.” 

At Captain Libner’s call, Andy stood before him and 
told his story, excepting the saddest p'fert — that pertain- 
ing to his father; and he was employed as the cap- 
tain’s clerk. Andy was indeed glad; and before the 
voyage was half over, he was — next to the captain — the 
most popular soul on board. Everybody loved him, he 
was so brave, honest and obliging. 

One afternoon during the voyage, the captain and 
Andy were in the cabin with nothing in particular to 
do, as a fine steady breeze was blowing, and the ship 
working easily, and making fine headway — every man 
at his post — when Andy mustered courage to say, 
‘‘ Captain Libner, tell me a story ! ” 

“Tell you a story, Andy?” said the captain kindly; 
“ well, what kind do you want ?” 

“ A story never written — a story right out of your 
own life, captain — about shipwrecks, or sea-fights, or 
the like.” 


FOR A NFW WORLD. II9 

‘'Want something dashing, eh?” said ' Captain Lib- 
ner. "Well, when the last war broke out — of 1812 — 
I was young and fearless, and didn’t care for tlie whole 
of England’s navy. I had charge of a bran’-new 
schooner, loaded her Avith spars at a port in Maine, 
and sailed for Baltimore. I arrived off the Virginia 
Capes, and found to my dismay the British fleet block- 
ading Chesapeake Bay; and, before 1 could get away, 
ship, crew and myself were captured. 

"After keeping us confined for awhile, we were sent 
to Bermuda and imprisoned in the ' Goree Prison Ship,’ 
a filthy old hulk. Here I was kept some time and set 
to work fitting up prize-ships — being something of a 
ship-carpenter — which was a relief I was glad to get. 
By and by, an exchange of prisoners was made, and I 
was sent to Baltimore. There I shipped on board a 
' letter of marque ’ bound for South America, and was 
captured by one of the same fleet that took me before — 
and sharp were their jokes on the poor Yankee. 

"This time I was not exchanged, but let go on 
parole, and went home to find that my house had been 
plundered — especially of a picture of a very fine ship, 
1 greatly prized. It seemed as though I could not 
move, but that I ran against the army and navy of 
England. When I saw my picture gone, and my 
neighbors’ houses plundered, I got patriotically mad, and 
said, ‘if I ever got the chance. I’d give them a shot 
or two and it soon came. An English . privateer 
which had been playing havoc with the fishing craft along 


120 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CT.OUDS. 


o.ur coast, put into ^‘Ipswich Harljor” and got becalmed. I 
saw that she was at our mercy, so I rallied a 
few brave, strong young men — sons of mothers who had 
been killed by the merciless captain firing on the town. 
We hauled an old piece of artillery to the top of the 
hill that rose behind the town, and, to the consternation 
of our enemies, blazed away at them. We raked them 
for an hour, and six men were killed at the sweeps 
which they were working to get their vessel out of the 
harbor. I heard the captain cry out in desperation, as 
he saw man after man shot down. ‘ For God’s sake, 
men! do your best, or we’ll all be killed!’ ‘Well,’ I 
said, ‘ boys, obey orders, do your best,’ and the old 
gun banged away ! A gun, my boy, depends on the 
man behind it. That captain was hung in England for 
perjury, and he said, just as the rope was put around his 
neck, ‘ that the only thing he regretted was his firing 
on that town of defenceless women.’” 

“Captain,” said Andy, “did pirates ever trouble you?” 

“Yes once, off Gibraltar, I sighted, one afternoon, a 
low, suspicious-looking craft. In a few moments, a shot was 
fired across our bows, and we heaved to. Their decks 
swarmed with as dark, swarthy, ugly-looking fellows, as 
ever scuttled a ship or cut a throat. I was helpless, and 
had to stand and see them plunder the ship bare of every- 
thing portable. Had I protested in any way, my brains 
would have been dashed out by their murderous cutlasses. 
Happily, those days of war are over now, and peace reigns 
supreme. As to the pirates, they are swept from the Atlan- 


FOR A NEW WORLD. 


12 t 


tic, and pretty much from the Mediterranean — so you 
need not be afraid to go to sleep to-night. Now I must 
go on deck, and see how matters are getting on there. 
This stormy old ocean gives us many a battle of another 
kind, my boy; but God reigns.” 

“ Thank you. Captain Libner,” said Andy. 

Safely the Edinburgh reached her dock in New 
York, and friendly and regretful was the parting. 

Years afterwards, when Andy was addressing a 
large congregation on Personal Influence,” he repeat- 
ed the words of advice given him by the good cap- 
tain, and described the prayer offered for him in that 
little cabin ; and there was not a dry eye in the 
house. 

Years went by, and the brave sailor left the sea, 
and settled down among his kindred and friends, by 
whom he was respected and beloved. When he had 
laid away in the church-yard his faithful wife, the 
great-hearted old nian lived happily with his sons and 
daughters — now with one and then with another. Peace- 
fully he died in a ripe and beautiful old age, his intel- 
lectual powers vigorous to the last, and his faith in 
Christ perfect. One stormy night, over the rough waves 
of Long Island Sound, the sainted captain’s body 
was borne, and tenderly laid away in God’s acre ” of 
his quiet New England town. 

“ Heeds not the rolling waves, 

But bends to the oar ; 

Leaves the poor old stranded wreck, 

And pulls for the shore.’* - 


6 


122 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Andy left the ship, bundle in hand — like Bob De.ore 
him — walked along the street and was beginning to feel 
lonesome, when he was startled by a shoe-black cheerily 
singing out “ Halloo ! Andy Macdonald, have a shine ? 
Glad to see ye ! ” 

The shoe-black was none other than Tom Dalton. 

Andy threw down his bundle, and Tom his box and 
brushes, and each got hold of the other around the 
neck. 

How in the world did you get here, Tom ?” 

Smuggled ! got in free of duty, Andy ! ” 

“ What led you to leave old Glasgow ?” 

“ Heard you and Bob say you were coming. You 
said under the lumber you’d be my hf others — meant to 
follow my brothers ! ” 

‘‘Where do you live, Tom?” said .mdy. 

“Not in style, Andy; ^a kind old woman lodges 
me for sixpence a day.” 

“ What do you do ?” said Andy. 

“‘Here’s my stock in trade — box, brushes and black- 
ing. Have a shine, Andy ?” 

“ Yes, Tom,” said Andy. 

Tom Dalton polished Andy’s boots till he could see 
his face reflected. 

“ Tom Dalton, here’s ten cents,” said Andy. 

“ Andy ! will ye hurt Tom’s feelings, by asking me 
to take money from you ?” 

“Well! let me have your brushes, Tom. Now put 
your foot there.” Andy was on his knees. 


FOR A NEW WORLD, 


123 

Won’t do it!” said Tom; won’t do it!” 

“Are you my brother?” said Andy. 

“ Yes, I am ! ” said Tom. 

“ Then he_ one ! ” said Andy ; “ brothers serve one 

another.” 

Tom Dalton put his foot on the box, and Andy 
equalled Tom in the art. Considerable whispering went 
on between the boys, and then they parted. 

Andy said, as he went on toward the Albany boat, 
“ Tom Dalton is sunshine among the clouds and 
Tom said, “wasn’t that a shine ?” and went on crying, 
“Have a shine, sir? — have a shine? — got to go after 
my brothers ! — shine, sir ?” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


C AN ADA. 

W HEN GEORGE HALDANE married Lucy 
Enmore, he came out to Canada and bought 
several hundred acres of timber-land near lake Ontario. 
Haldane was of staunch, loyal stock; honest, brave 
and aggressive. Lucy was like her husband ; loved, and 
cheerfully went with him into the wilderness, bidding 
good-bye to kindred and country. 

With a strong will and arm, and sharp axe, Hal- 
dane cut down the timber, and, by the help of the 
nearest settlers, built his large log cabin. In time, 
two hundred acres of land were cleared, and saw and 
grist mills built on the edge of a rapid stream run- 
ning through the farm. Right glad were the Haldanes, 
for the boys’ sake as well as their own, to have with 
them Alice Macdonald’s sons. They felt it to be no 
common blessing. 

Andy found, as Bob had before him, plenty of 
work to do; and, with Haldane and his men, went in- 
to the timber to . do it. His hands were tender, and 
at first the blood dripped from the ends of his fingers; 
but he cut away, and in time could level with the sod 
a mighty pine-tree as quickly as Haldane himself 


CANADA. 


125 


He also learned .0 run the mills, and in many emer- 
gencies evinced that skill, aptitude and energy which 
make leaders among men. 

Haldane was very proud of the boys ; talked much 
to them, and about them, and said They are grand, 
and will succeed;” and they did. 

Andy was brimful of fun and enterprise, and equal- 
led the best of the settlers’ boys in trapping, gunning, 
fishing, rowing, and swimming. vigorous mind,” he 

said, needs a vigorous body.” Since that memorable 
night when his mother hung about his neck the 

miniature, he had not been so happy ; and he devel- 
oped rapidly in every part. All the people, old and 
young, delighted to be in the influence of his vigorous, 
joyous soul, and they made him leader in many en- 
terprises; which honor he gratefully received. But while 
the boy was more happy than he had ever expected 

to be, his ardent soul was not satisfied ; he thirsted 
for knowledge, and said, Bob, I must go higher than 
the pines ! ” 

‘‘ Go ahead, Andy ! ” said Bob. Lumbering and 
milling are honorable ; but these men about us need 
mental and moral teachers, and how else shall they 
learn, if such as you do not teach them ? You can 

go higher than the pines, and ought to.” 

Night after night the boys studied Mental and Moral 
Philosophy; read Roman and English, American and 

French History, and took up the Latin Grammar. 

Many distinguished men did so, when boys. Thus 


126 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


summer and winter passed away, until Andy was 
eighteen years old, and as yet undecided as to his 
life-work. As often as he tried to settle the grave 
matter, clouds gathered, until he became sorely perplexed. 
One day he would be a lawyer, and another a doctor. 
Haldane made both of the boys flattering offers, which 
neither felt like accepting. Bob was not robust, felt 
unequal to the severe hardships of the wilderness, and 
concluded to follow mercantile life in Buffalo. 

Haldane said, Bob, I shall be extremely sorry to 
lose you, but you are right. I have noticed that this 
life wears on you. Go, and I will recommend you to 
old Mr. John Williams, a lumber merchant in the city 
of Buffalo. He is a good man and just, and your 

advantages will be many.” 

Bob called at John Williams’ office, some months 
after, and he, having read Haldane’s letter, hired him 
at once as his confidential clerk. It is probable that 

Haldane had held private correspondence about the 

matter. Bob entered with zeal and intelligence upon his 
duties in the lumber yard, and was so above all the 

small deceptions in trade, that he gained and kept 

most valuable customers, and won the utmost confidence 
of Williams. People liked to deal with Bob, because 
they felt that he was the very soul of honor. 

“ Sit still, Mr. Williams ; your clerk can wait on me,” 
was said every day. 

‘^You have a valuable young man in your office, 

Mr. Williams,” said a, leading citizen. 


CANADA. 


127 


‘‘ I have indeed,” said the lumber dealer. Would 
God those young men on the comer yonder were 
like him 1” 

‘‘Then the jails would be empty,” said the leading 
citizen. 

“Yes, and the churches would be full and strong; 
and the offices in the city and state be held by in- 
telligent men of character,” said John Williams. 

“I almost despair for my country, when I see how 
things are going — how young men who might do grand 
things in their day, are waiting for something to turn 
up, and wondering how they can live without work,” the 
leading citizen said. 

“It is a calamity to society, the family, the church, 
and the state,” said honest John Williams. 

“ Cannot we have a course of lectures in our new 
Hall, during the winter season, aimed directly at this 
very evil; and so inspire our young men to attempt 
great things ?” said the leading citizen. 

“ Let us try for it,” said the lumber dealer. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


MEETINGS ELDER STIMFORD THE TURNING POINT. 

I F MY READER has thought at all about it, he has 
surmised that the religious privileges of the set- 
tlers were few. The vast spread of country between 
Toronto and Montreal was missionary ground, and there 
existed no organized body of Christians nearer than 
those places. 

The Haldanes deplored the deprivation, and, alarmed, 
saw the settlers’ children and their own growing up 
untouched by the refining influence of divine worship, 
and without an adequate conception of the sanctity 
of the Sabbath. They therefore concluded to make their 
log-house a chapel in the woods, and sent word out far 
and near, that a gospel meeting would be held on the 
following Sabbath. 

The day was exceedingly fine, and the people packed 
the large 'log-house, and a strange scene it was — these 
hardy pioneers and their children, in homespun gar- 
ments, assembled at friend Haldane’s, to worship the 
God of their fathers. Before a word had been spoken, 
each was busy with his own thoughts, and many eyes 
filled with tears as the purpose of the meeting brought 


MEETINGS. 


129 


freshly to mind the preaching, praying and singing in 
the kirks and chapels of England and Scotland. 

I.ucy, who will lead the meeting ? I cannot think 
of anybody,” said Haldane. Rodger Cameron is good 
enough, but reads with difficulty.” 

You must lead, George,” replied Lucy. “ Who 
knows but that for such a time as this you are here, 
as Mordecai said of Esther ? I have not thought of 
anyone else. The people believe in you and love you.” 

Haldane stood up behind the pine table, opened and 
read the scriptures better than some ministers do, or- 
derly and tenderly led in prayer and singing, and then 
read a sermon. 

“ How good ! How good ! ” said the people as 
they dispersed. ‘‘ Thank God ! Haldane is more than 
a miller. How good it was to be there !” 

AVhen Bob and Andy came to Haldane’s, these 
services were in healthy action, and spreading a gra- 
cious influence throughout the whole region. Even old 
Ben Haws put up his fishing tackle Saturday night, 
and roving Sam Smith said he wouldn’t hunt during 
church time, anyhow.” 

One of those brave saddle”-ministers, who rode 
through the forests, and whose memories . are fragrant 
- yet, heard of this green spot in the woods, and met 
and told Haldane that he would preach a sermon once 
a month, through the summer, in a grove on the lake 
shore, not far away from his house ; and notice was 

. given of the meeting. 

6 ^ 


130 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


The Sunday came, and hundreds of people were present. 
Some had come twenty miles to be there; for the name 
of the preacher was widely known and honored among 
the settlers. Haldane, Lucy, and the young men were 
on the ground early. It is to be the most important 
day in Andy’s life. He will soon know what God wants 
him to do. Some of the people were standing and 
talking, some were sitting on old trunks of trees ; others on 
blankets spread on the grass, when suddenly all eyes were 
fixed on a tall, strong, sun-browned man on horseback, 
riding into the grove. Quickly dismounting, he slipped 
the bridle from his horse — a splendid, knowing animal, 
that had carried his master safely along the perilous de- 
files of ’the mountain, and through deep and rapid 
streams, and would come and go at his master’s call. 
He shook hands with Haldane, spoke kindly to Andy — 
yearning for his soul — mounted the rude platform, and 
bowed his head in prayer. It was so real, that many 
also bowed their heads, as if by authority. The minister’s 
heart bowed — it was no cold formality. 

Instantly Andy was absorbed in the man — so unlike 
any preacher he had ever seen. His body was built for 
enduring hardship, and hardship had made it like the 
gnarled oak. His hair was iron-gray; brow broad and 
projecting; eyes sharp, but glowing with purity and truth; 
lips thin and firm; and the whole face bespoke a fervid, 
manly, masterly soul — a rare preacher. He was, in spir- 
it, a Huss, a Luther, a Bunyan, all in one; logical, 
sympathetic, illustrative, and full of fire. The service 


MEETINGS. 


I3I 

was in keeping with the man from beginning to end — 
plain, bold, direct, tender, uplifting. ‘‘The Cross” was his 
theme. He talked with the people as one with them in 
need ; souls so sin-stained that only the blood of the 
divine Son could cleanse; and then he warmed until eve- 
ry sentence was like a rushing flame, or tender, trailing, 
flowering vine, as he caught sight of the cross — and 
such a cross it was ! So loaded with agony, so grand 
with truth, so perfect with a God, so sin-cleansing, hell- 
destroying, and brilliant with the gracious purpose of 
the eternal Father! At times the fixed pale faces of 
the people were terrible to see, and then exceedingly 
beautiful, as they glowed with gratitude and hope in 
God’s mercy. 

Andy Macdonald never saw such a cross till now, nor 
had he ever been moved by such a force. It struck 
his will, and his strong will swayed to and fro like the 
imperial pine in the hurricane, and it broke — broke clear 
down to the tap-root, and fell. 

Elder Stimford — this “John the Baptist” preaching 
repentance in the wilderness — marked Andy from the 
first; and when he saw his strong eye quail, and head 
sink on his breast, he knew the “ word of God, sharper 
than any two-edged sword,” had pierced^ “ even to the 
dividing asunder of soul and spirit;” then, with a burst 
of burning, victorious enthusiasm, he closed the sermon, 
more than satisfied, and dismissed the people with a 
benediction of mercy and peace. 

Springing down from the rough platform, the preacher 


132 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


sought out Andy, laid his hand on his head as tenderly 
as his own mother used to do, and said with inten- 
sity, “ Andy Macdonald, I know who you are. Be the 
servant of the living God — obey the voice of the 
Spirit now — accept Christ. God’s will must be done^ 
and done hj you. What do ypu say, my son?” 

Andy slowly rose up, and grasping Stimford’s hand, 
said, / will"' 

There came moments when people said of Andy, 
“ How grandly he appears ! ” as they saw his face 
radiant with a burning soul as he talked; but never 
was it more beautiful than as Stimford saw it then. 

The preacher called his horse, slipped on the bridle, 
sprung into the saddle, and rode away to another 
appointment, many miles distant. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


ANDY GOES TO COLLEGE. 

T he TOUCH-STONE of human hearts makes 
sharp revelations. “What went ye out into the 
wilderness to see ? A prophet ? Yea, I say unto you, 
and more than a prophet.” Andy knew God now, and 
understood his father, and knew his mother. For this 
hour and its results, Alice had lived. She knew that 
her talented child would be great in wrong or right 3 
and when he was, by fever, nigh unto death, she prayed 
God to take him, if he was to be only a meaning- 
less, helpless infidel; but to raise him up again, if he 
was to be His servant.” 

God spared his life, and now said, commandingly, 
‘‘Go! and as ye go, preach!” and Andy raised his eyes 
toward heaven and said, Thy will be done. It was 
a magnificent hour; as every hour is, to a greater or 
less degree, in which a man resolves at any and every 
cost to do his duty toward God and man. The swords 
of such flash and win in the deadly conflict. These are 
the Joshuas and Gideons of ancient and modern times. 


134 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


What we know, and gain without us, we first feel 
within us;” and victories are born within. 

When Andy Macdonald decided, he acted. He told 
Haldane his fixed resolution; and farms and mills were 
passed by as if they were not. 

Going to college ? ” said Haldane, protestingly. 
‘‘Elder Stimford never went to college — As glorious men 
as ever filled the sacred office, never went to college — 
why will you go ?” 

“ These very men, however,” replied Andy, “ labored 
to found and endow schools of classic and sacred learning. 
No men deplore their lack of broad culture as do they; 
hence their zeal. Had Stimford been at ‘Oxford,’ or 
‘Eton,’ or ‘Nassau Hall,’ he might have been the 
peer of Chalmers. Naturally his powers are remark- 
ably organized; but most men’s faculties are so scat- 
tered or confused, that the severest discipline is a 

necessity, in order to make them approach him in 
power.” 

Andy Macdonald was born and bred in an intellec- 
tual atmosphere, among the reasonings of disciplined 

faculties; and knew too well the value of the power 

of a deeply cultivated intellect, to yield to the specious 
argument, “ Elder Stimford never went to school.” 

“But,” said Haldane quietly, “many men have been 
to college, Andy ; and yet our friend Stimford is head 
and shoulders above them, in power over men. While 
he was preaching, the other Sunday, Jim Benson walked 
up to the edge of the crowd, with his hunting-rifle on 


ANDY GOES TO COLLEGE. 1 35 

his shoulder, and game in his bag; listened, took off 
his hat, and was in tears in ten minutes. What do 
you think of that ?” 

“ I think that it is in him,” replied Andy. No 
school put that power there; yet the school is needed.” 

Andy knew that Elder Stimford’s majestic theme 
demanded his own utmost ability, natural and acquired ; 
and was fixed in his conviction as to the proper course 
for him to pursue. 

Haldane did not see clearly that he was wrong; 
but believing in a strong, if not a brilliant future for 
Andy, he paid over the two hundred dollars due him, 
and said, “Go, and God bless you! son of many 
prayers.” 

With this money and a change of raiment in a 
bundle, Andy left the “settlement,” to the regret of 
all the people there, and, in the month of September, 
i8 — , entered the Freshman class of the University 

of ; a school founded for such as he, whose old 

walls are now glorified by memorable victories. 

The young student was very happy ; often made 
the halls ring with song and laughter, and sometimes 
carried his jokes farther than was wise ; but all loved 
his gentle nature, and brave spirit and sharp wit. 

“ Repress your spirits, Macdonald,” said a long-faced, 
skin-and-bone brother. “ St. Paul didn’t frolic as you do.” 

“ If he didn’t, he ought to have done so. He was 
a Scotchman born before his time — so thorough, pro- 
gressive and genial does he seem to me. If he were 


136 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


here now, I should ask him ‘ why he never married,' 
and he would tell me." 

How profane ! " retorted brother Clouds. 

Come, Clouds," said Andy, cheerily, ‘‘ come, let’s 
have a game at wicket — it’s good for the jaundice." 

‘‘ Get thee behind me, Satan ! ’’ said Brother Clouds, 
dying with bad digestion — and leaped out of the win 
dow in which he was sitting. 

‘‘ Chum Mason," said Andy, when near the end of 
the Sophomore year, ‘‘off to-morrow!" 

“ Off to-morrow, Andy ? Where ? Why ?’’ asked Ma- 
son in the same breath. 

“ Money all gone I ’’ Can’t mortgage my future. Going 
to Haldane’s, to run the mill, and preach the glorious 
gospel of the Son of God. It fires a man to preach to 
the settlers." 

“Apply for aid as a beneficiary, chum," said Mason. 

“No. A splendid fellow who applied yesterday, was 
told that the treasury was empty; and he has not 
Haldane’s mill to run, as I have," said Andy. 

Andy left college, ran the mill, and made money; 
led the meetings, cheered the weary, pierced the scep- 
tic’s cover, and threw bright sunshine into many gloomy 
places. Everybody was glad to see him, and was 
proud of him. In due time he resumed his studies, 
and every effort evinced that he was mastering first 
principles. He saw that so-called dazzling inspirations 
were only the shining tops of underground columns, 
and turrets of unseen cathedrals; that every fnasterpiece 


ANDY GOES TO COLLEGE. 


137 


in marble, painting, or thought, was the silent growth 
of years of labor — was all of the man. He gradua- 
ted, and his speech pleased all. Plain, strong men — 
farmers — said that’s common sense. WeVe heard about 

V 

Olympic gods and games for twenty year, and don’t 
know ’em yet — they’re all moonshine to us. We 
don’t want such stuff in sermons. S’pose they must 
be what you call it? clas’iky — on account of some 
folks what like fuss and feathers; but we want blastin’ 
an ditchin’ an ploughin’ for crops. Give us such boys 
what knows human natur’ an mighty grace, and here’s 
your money ! ” 

“Young man,” said an earnest, intelligent Christian 
merchant, “ do you want a pulpit ?” 

“ Thank you ; not now, sir,” replied Andy ; “ I must 
study theology.” 

“All right! I admire your judgment. If you want 
any money, say so. We’re ready to invest in yoii, and 
all like you. The times need strength, plainness, heart, 
as well as beauty. The preaching that moves the back- 
woods is what the wicked city needs to-day. Sin is sin, 
whatever its complexion, and God is God.” 

When Andy was alone. Bob came up and wound 
his arms around his brother’s neck — the love that bright- 
ened the dark hole under the lumber is as pure and 
rich now — and said, “Remember the dark night in Glas- 
gow ship-yard, Andy? The Hotel de I.umber?” 

“ I do. Bob,” said Andy ; and with a husky voice 
he added, “ what a sweet experience we had. Bob ! And 


Ij8 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Bob, I feel like a little boy by mother’s knee to-day, 
looking up into her beautiful eyes. I never was so proud 
of her character and memory as now. I ”... . Andy 
had to stop. 

Andy,” said Bob,” you are a big, heavy-whiskered 
brother, but I must kiss you, and will;” and he did. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


THEOLOGICAL COURSE DISCUSSED. 


ACATION WAS SPENT at the mill, and in 



preaching ; and all the people said, The col- 


lege has not hurt him and loved him more than 
ever — hardly reflecting that there was more to love. 

One Sunday night, after a wonderful meeting, Haldane 
said, ‘^Andy, why study theology? You have ideas, 
language, and commo7i sense — a great talent, Andy. You 
have suffered, and beaten the bitter storm, and the 
people hunger for one like you to break Heaven’s loaf 
for them. They all protest against your decision, and 
say ‘they cannot spare you — will not I I am urged to 
beg you to begin your great work now and here.” 

“ I thank you for the compliment, Haldane,” said 
Andy ; “ but to feed these people, I must myself be fed, 
and take time. The vine can be no longer than the root, 
as you well know. I must know the results of Biblical 
thinking and the process thereunto, and be led in my 
enquiries by able, wise, and earnest leaders. I have 
a classmate of very showy style, who scouts the neces- 


140 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


sity of further seminary life. Mark my word, Haldane, 
he will be a rocket, and then he will be its stick ! Men 
who scout systems and theologians, are uncertain and 
contradictory. Disorderly thoughts are weak, however 
brilliant. To-day they declare ideas which collide 
with fixed thought, and to-morrow, feeling uncomforta- 
ble, stand again on solid foundations; but the vicious 
idea has been flashed around the globe. You are 
never sure of them, because they are not sure of 
themselves. Becoming a law of interpretation unto 
themselves, they scintillate puns at old landmarks, which 
served morals and faith in years of deadly peril. These 
grand headlands they dare not manfully confront, be- 
cause they cannot' make powder fast enough. Satire and 
gleaming puns are safer. Popularity, I fear, is ‘all’ to 
them.” 

“ But,” said Haldane, “ are not their attacks on vice 
pungent, and their exaltation of virtue elaborate and 
refreshing ?” 

“Undoubtedly,” replied Andy, “they have rare abili- 
ties; gifts of insight of hearts, sparkling illustration, humor, 
faultless rhetoric, retentive memory; and ring fresh changes 
weekly on their staple text, ‘And the greatest of these is 
charity.’ You cannot pass through the cities where they 
dwell, and not go to hear them; and, having heard, ad- 
mire their great powers. People say, ‘They have great 
magnetic power.’ ” 

“ Are not good morals served by them ?” asked 
Haldane, not so much as their defender as for the in- 
formation. 


THEOLOGICAL COURSE DISCUSSED. 141 

‘‘Yes,” replied Andy; “but I have this objection to 
their way. Their theory is, that morality is the trunk 
of the branches, faith, hope and love. I say, God is 
root and trunk. In all new creations, God begins upon 
Himself, He demolished John Newton — Christian John 
is not the profligate John elongated. Lord Bacon is 
right: ‘It is the foulest injustice to remove old land- 
marks.’ Elder Stanford holds to them — the old land- 
marks — and^ is the royal helper of men. You do not 
say of his sermon, ‘ How charming ! ’ but you say, 
‘ I will be a better manl To approach him in power, 
I must go to the Seminary. Neither goodness nor 
genius can in themselves succeed. I must kiiow — must 
‘ launch out into the deep.’ But understand now, Hal- 
dane,” continued Andy, after a moment’s thought, “I do 
not contend that no erratic meteors flash from the Semin- 
ary sky, nor that all heroes of the faith come from 
thence — indeed no; for that would be false and un- 
just. I only contend that where it is not utterly im- 
possible, candidates for God’s ministry will best serve 
the high purpose of their lives, by a thorough course ot 
theological study. In my zeal for the Seminary I re- 
member that few come from it who equal our friend 
Stimford, who knows nothing of it, except his self-de- 
nial to sustain it.” 

“ Well,” replied Haldane, “ I submit to your judg- 
ment in the matter. The Bible says that ‘A wise and 
just man will increase learning;’ that ‘things are written 
for our learning; ’ and I know that you are not of those 


142 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


who are ^ever learning and are never able to come to 
the knowledge of the truth/ but I do beg you will nev- 
er read your sermons, as the most of your learned men 
are doing. 

Essays, you mean, Haldane; not sermons. If I read 
essays, you may take my old axe there and chop them 
through. If the thoughts are drawn through the heart, 
are Christly, and declared with intense earnestness, the 
people will hardly think of forms. 

With growing interest, Andy pursued theological 
enquiry. His Glasgow schooling giving point and pith 
to many topics discussed; and his learned teachers — 
often disappointed in others — found great reward in 
the steady growth of Macdonald. Noble men! God 
bless them 1 Highly endowed and cultivated, poorly 
cared for and unappreciated by the masses — their joy 
to-day is found in a thousand pulpits, defending the 
‘‘ old landmarks ” with rare learning, piety, zeal and 
power. 

‘‘ Atheism and Faith,” was the theme of Andy’s 
graduating address. In simple, terse language, he ex- 
ploded the one, and glorified the other. Scholars and 
plain men were equally glad. 

Jim Adams — the witty infidel of the Junior Class — 
took his hand and said, ‘‘ By gracious, Andy, you fling 
me on my beam’s end, and shovel out my cargo!” 

“Thank you, Jim,” said Andy; “don’t shovel it 
back.” 

“ Andy ! ” said Bob, “ do you remember the night 
in the Glasgow ship-yard ?” 


THEOLOGICAL COURSE DISCUSSED. 1. 13 

“I do,” said Andy; ‘Mo you remember this?'' — and 
he took from its place upon his heart the ftiother's min- 
iature I 

“ What time is it, Bob ?” said Andy. 

Bob took out the watch — the mother’s gift to him, — 
and said, “ I think it must be morning.” 

Their manly hearts were fountains of tears in the 
beautiful sunshine of the day, and Andy said, “ How 
true are the words she said to us for God 1 — ‘ My pres- 
ence shall go up with thee, and I will make my good- 
ness pass before thee.’ ” 

“Did you see Tom Dalton in the church, Andy?” 
said Bob. 

“ Why no ! Was Tom Dalton there ?” 

“ Yes ! ” said Bob. “Three months since, Mr. Williams 
came down into the yard where • I was marking lum- 
ber, delivered from a schooner just arrived from Hal- 
dane’s mill, and said, ‘ Robert, a young man is wait- 
ing in the office to see you.’ I went to the office, 
and there stood Tom Dalton; and I thought I had 
never seen so handsome a man in all my life. You 
remember his wonderfully perfect form and beautiful 
eyes ! I took him by the hand and said, ‘ Can I do 
anything for you, brother Tom ?’ 

“‘You can. Bob,’ he said. ‘I want you to hire me!’ 
‘ Hire you, Tom I ’ I said ; Well, I went out and told 
Mr. Williams the story of our acquaintance, when he 
said — well, what do you think ? ‘Robert, my lumber- 
yard goes with our Mary. I see you have got Mary — 


144 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


she says you have; so give your whole heart to the 
matter — hire whom 5^011 please. The lumber-yard goes 
with Mary ! ’ I felt red in my cheeks, Andy ; but I 
went back and I hired Tom; and when I told him 
that you were to graduate from the Seminary to-day, 
he said, ‘ I must see my brother Andy graduate.^ I 
told him to come on, and he is here ; and Andy, while 
you were talking, he laughed and cried all the time.” 

‘‘ Dear fellow ! ” said Andy, “ where is he ? ” 

Yonder. Tom ! Tom Dalton ! ” shouted Bob ; 
“ here ! this way ! ” 

Tom — Mr. Thomas Dalton — came up, and putting 
his arm on the graduate’s shoulder, said, ‘‘Andy Mac- 
donald, you said you were my brother. You and Bob, 
through homeless, weary years, have been the two 
bright beams of sunshine among my many clouds — 
warming and cheering me. The chink in the lumber- 
pile was a window of heaven to me.” 

The students loved Abram Meacham, the genial 
deacon of the church at “ Canton Corners,” whose pul- 
pit they often supplied. Deacon Meacham loved Andy 
Macdonald, and had taken special pains to be at his 
graduation. Taking Andy’s hand, he shook it in his 
own grand way, and said, “Andy, I want to say a 
word to you, but feel a little as I did when, down 
in the old ‘Bay State’ — before I bent over as I do 
now — I proposed to . ‘ Harmony ’ that she change her 
name from Smith to Meacham.” 

“ Propose away, uncle Abram ; your advice is al- 
ways golden,” said Andy. 


IHEOLOGICAL COURSE DISCUSSED. 


145 


“ Are you engaged ?” asked uncle Abram. 

“Yes. I have engaged to become the pastor of 
the church at ‘Basking Shore,’” said Andy. 

“ Not that” continued uncle Abram, “ not that. To 
be plain — are you engaged to be married?” 

‘‘No, uncle Abram, I am not.” 

‘You must be — before you settle as pastor, Andy 

‘husband of one wife,’ you know.” 

‘‘Mast?” said Andy, smiling; “did you say must?” 

“Ought to be, anyhow; for then no expectations will 
be disappointed. If you select the leading lady in the 
choir, somebody will say you ought to have asked the 
hand of the leading lady in the Dorcas, or mite, or tem- 
perance society ; and clouds might gather from what is no 
one’s business but your own. Above all, no mortal can 
be so bright a sunshine among a minister’s clouds, as a 
loving, intelligent wife.” 

“ When I think of my now sainted mother, I say, ‘ a 
good woman is the finest work of God,’ and I should 
be honored, could I get her for my wife,” said Andy. 

“You are right— be married,” said Uncle Abram. 

“ She lives .... pray for her.” 

“ Shall I come over to ymr house ?” asked Andy 
laughing. ’ 

“Too late!” said Deacon Meacham. “Cynthia al- 
ready wears the ring!” 

^ “Indeed! God bless her! she is so pure and sunny,” 
said Macdonald. “ Have you any one in mind, l5’eacon ?” 

“ The chairman ©f the Pulpit Committee of the Stock- 

7 


146 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


bridge church requests me to send down a ‘ supply ’ for 
next Sunday, and I want to send yoii^' said the good 
deacon. 

I will go, and preach as well as I can,” said Andy ; 
‘‘ but what will that have to do with the matter ?” 

“George Brewster — a glorious man — a farmer, his 
wife, and three daughters are members of the church 
there. Rachel, the eldest, is the woman for yoic^ so I 
think. Go to Stockbridge, and enquire for George Brew- 
ster. He is, like myself, a little man, and lame and 
bent — but better.” 

“Better? Well, you may say so — none else,” said 
Andy. 

Andy went to Stockbridge ; found the farm-house 
surrounded by roses and honey-suckles and great elm 
trees; knocked at the door, and Rachel Brewster met 
him. 

“ I am to preach here to-morrow, or have come for 
that purpose,” said Andy ; “ and uncle Abram Meacham 
directed me to Mr. George Brewster, ‘a little man, and 
lame, like himself,’ he said — and I hope I may add, as 
friendly.” 

“ Come in,” said Rachel, smiling. “ George Brewster 
is my father, and is coming up from the meadow 
now.” 

Andy said that “ he staid at farmer Brewster’s two 
daysT Rachel said that “Andrew Macdonald staid at 
her father’s house two weeks P 

Bob asked Andy, “ what texts he preached from at 
Stockbridge ?” 


THEOLOGICAL COURSE DISCUSSED. 147 

Andy replied, For the life of me, Bob, I cannot re- 
member ! ” 

Rachel Brewster has been Mrs. Andrew Macdonald 
many years, at the time of this writing, and has much 
to do with his great success. 

Rachel says, ‘^Andy has been my sunshine, out doors 
and in, ever since the day he came to supply the 
Stockbridge pulpit.” 

Andy says, I love my clouds, for the dash of Ra- 
chel’s sunshine on them.” 

“By your truth she shall be true — 

Ever true as wives of yore ; 

And her yes once said to you. 

Shall be yes for evermore,” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


PEGGIE'S DARLING am Y — EDINBURGH. 

T hat verse of St. Peter’s — ‘‘casting all your 
care upon Him, for He careth for you” — is one of 
heaven’s sweetest sunbeams. In its abundant glory, ev- 
erlasting arms are seen. Beautifully has one said, 

“ I know not where His islands lift 
Their fronded palms in air; 

I only know I cannot drift 
Beyond His love and care.*’ 

“ Who is yonder bright and beautiful little girl in com- 
pany with that kindly-faced woman whom I see so 
often in this poor and wretched part of the town?” 
asked a policeman of a miserable creature, whom he 
had often arrested. 

“I dinna ken,” respectfully replied the outlaw, surprised 
that he should be wanted for anything but the ‘ Police 
Court,’ or to ‘ move on.’ “ I dinna ken. Bill Rad- 
cliffe calls the ’ooman Peggie, an the lassie Amy. Bill’s 
wife ’ll dee, an they’re the licht o’ his attic. If ony- 
body touch a hair o’ their head, he’ll na ken for a 
time whar he’s hurt. Sir, if ye’ll rap wi’ yer stick. 


PEGGIE’S DARLING AMY. 


149 


I'll coom. I hae done mony dark deeds I pray God 
the sun may na shine on, but I’ll do a gude one, 
suld onybody harm the ’ooman an the lassie ! ” 

They are Peggie and Amy Burns Macdonald. Three 
days after Andy sailed for America, Peggie took a 
second-class place in the new cars for Edinburgh. 
She was very nervous, for it was her first car-ride. 
When she looked out of the windows, and saw how 
quickly houses and trees were passed, she was bewild- 
ered; when the cars reeled on the curves, she cried, 
^‘noo I’m gang’ll to ma end, sure;” and when the 
steam-whistle shrieked “ warning ” at the cross-roads, 
she declared they’d run ower a ’ooman,” and scolded 
because they did not stop and take up the ‘^puir 
body.” 

Safely, however, she reached old Edinburgh, and said 
to Richard Burns, Gie me the auld mail-coach, wi’ its 
twa stories ! I canna see ony improvement. I did na 
think auld Scotland wuld tak’ the risk o’ steam-horses ; 

' an’ if they tak’ me doon to Glasgow ony mair, it’ll 
na be to see Macdonald. I dinna ken the good o’ 

the ‘new ways,’ but to tak’ him oot o’ Scotland, or oot 
o’ the warld — the Lord forgie me!” 

Peggie found her darling — as she called Amy — a 
“well-spring of pleasure” in the house of the grand- 
father, Richard Burns, and a favorite with all the daugh- 
ters of Alice’s old friends. 

There is no time, gentle reader, to tell you all that 
is known about Peggie’s darling, and we must bid her a 


150 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

tender, though not final farewell. It is due to you how- 
ever to say that you need not fear about her happiness — 
for she was very happy. If not as commanding in tal- 
ents as was her mother, she possessed her invaluable 
qualities of character, and was worthy of the noble wo- 
man whose name she bore. In due time she took her 
mother’s place at the table of Richard Burns, and re- 
lieved the dear old people of all care. In the kirk, 
and in visiting the lowly and troubled, she also followed 
in the footsteps of her mother. 

When Peggie’s health failed, she nursed the kind 
old friend who had never turned away from Andy and 
Bob; she read God’s promises and sang His songs to 
her, and did all manner of tender deeds. 

Peggie’s frequent question was — ‘^Darling, hae ye 
heard ony thing fra the laddies ?” Every letter was 
read to her; and when she learned of their prosperity, 
great tears ran down the old cheeks as she said, 
‘‘Bless the Lord ! I kent it lang ago. They cam’ o’ 
a gude bluid — nae wonner ! nae wonner ! How she 
loved the laddies ! Alice — yer mother. I shall look a’ 
aboot the mansions for her.” 

When Peggie was dying, she said to all about her, 
“I maun gang noo to be wi’ the Lord. Tell the laddies 
I once held in ma auld arms, Peggie did na dis- 
trust them, an kent Andy would be a dominie, an Bob a 
rich mon. An tdl the Maqdonald, suld ye ever meet wi’ 
him, ‘God is love.’” And then ^ she fell asleep — her 
face touched with the light of heaven, and her kind 
old smile. 


Peggie’s darling amy. 


151 

Amy said, ‘‘So He giveth His beloved sleep.” 

Upon her grandparents, now bent and feeble, Amy 
spent her great love, and, in a little while, saw them 
buried in honor with their fathers. 

Go on, Amy! — heiress of a liberal fortune — go on 
doing good, and never forget the boys who sleep in 
the ship-yards, nor the girls like the one who led your 
mother to the room of the dying woman! 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


FIRST SETTLEMENT, AND THE WAGON PARTY, 


IRST IMPRESSIONS REMAIN— first things are 



important, and indicate the last. What a man can 


do with difficulties is the test of his ability. A minis- 
ter is a leader^ and to fly from trial is cowardice. 

One of Andy Macdonald’s trials was born on the 
Sunday when he preached as a candidate at ‘‘Basking 
Shore,” and gave one day to "Christ and souls, never 
thinking of himself at all. We shall see how he met it. 

“Mr. Flint! Mr. Flint!” cried Mrs. Tinder, from the 
kitchen-door of her old farm-house, to the man then pass- 
ing. 

“ Good morn’n’, Mrs. Tinder,” said Mr. Flint, hes- 
itating Avhether to make a call. 

“Come in, come in, Mr. Flint; I’m fearful down in 
the heel ” — and the woman drew her sharp face into 
its most solemn look. 

Mr. Flint, thinking Mrs. Tinder’s trouble might be in 
common with his own, came in, sat down on the wash- 
bench, and sighed. 


FIRST SETTLEMENT. 


153 


Mrs. Tinder sighed. 

What ails ye, Mrs. Tinder ? Is the brindle sick, 
or hev ye burnt the bread ?” 

‘‘Wuss’n that, Mr. Flint. I are troubled fur Zion’s 
cords — her glory is depart’n’. Shall we pray ?” 

‘‘No time now, Mrs. Tinder — told Jerusha I’d be 
right back. What is the matter? — du tell.” 

“ Matter ’nough, Mr. Flint. As you knows, our 
church’s gone and called that Scotchman to be our 
minister ! It’s dreadful ! I dreamt las’ night the end 
of our holy meet’n’-house fell in, and I woke up cry’n’, 
and been cry’n’ all the morn’n’ — ain’t my eyes red?” 

Mr. Flint said, “Yes;” took out his bandanna, put his 
elbows on his knees, braced up his head with his hands, 
and said, “ Mrs. Tinder, I’m thankful a rimnent’s left 
that don’t bow the knee to Baal— me and you is the 
rimnent, and me and you must be like stun’ flints in mus- 
kits. I are grieved as you is, ’cause they’ve ’lected Mac- 
donald fur our minister. I sed I’d be just as heav’n — 
where I’m go’n’ — and when he came on that trial, and 
read the psalm and prayed, I sed he’d do; but I 
changed at wunst when he sed how he’d come down 
from college on our invite, and spread his papers on 
the blessed Scriptur’s; then I know’d he wa’n’t no Holy 
Ghost man, like Elder Force was, who wunst was so 
full of the Sperret that he pounded the cushion till it 
bu’st. Conviction struck me like forked light’n’, and I 
know’d ‘he wa’n’t the man for the place,’ no how; 
my mind was made up till the day of judgment.” 


154 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


What a holy man you be!” said Mrs. Tinder; ‘‘the 
Lord’s ’lected ye from the foundations to tighten the 
cords of Zion, and drive ifer stakes. You must con- 
varse with brother Stryker, and I’ll convarse with Mrs. 
Soapman — she’s com’n’ to my quiltin’ this arternoon; 
her James’s go’n’ to marry our Tildy. He join ’em in 
holy matrimony! — not while I’m the gal’s mother! 
Now mind, Mr. Flint, we must obey the blessed Scrip- 
tur’s, ‘ Cast the seed on the waters,’ and ‘ Let not 
your left hand know what your right hand does.’” 

“Blessed woman!” said Flint as he went out. 

Andy Macdonald accepted the call of the church at 
“ Basking Shore,” near a western lake, and brought with 
him his young and noble wife — every way worthy of 
him, as he found out. The church, also, was worthy 
of them, in spite of the presence of the Flint party. 

In due time a council for ordination was called, con- 
sisting of men of real ability and moral worth, broth- 
ers — if not all college-bred — who were making the 
prairie blossom with the “ Rose of Sharon,” and whose 
young churches promised to be as “ Palm-Trees ” and 
“ Cedars of Lebanon.” There were no dry eyes when 
Andy got through with the story of his experience 
and creed. 


Friendly the teacher stood like an angel of light there among them ; 
Thorough, yet simple and clear; for sublimity always is simple. 

Both in sermon and song, a child can seize on its meaning.” 


Andy was ordained. If in any instance there was a 


FIRST SETTLEMENT. 


155 

lack of mental freshness, abundant heart forbade apology. 
Elder Stimford preached the sermon, and Elder Dudley 
prayed. Each hearer felt 

** One good man’s earnest prayer, the link 
’Twixt them and God.” 

Rachel said, ‘‘Andrew, I am proud to-day.” 

Bob — brother Bob, of the Glasgow ship-yard — said: 
“Andy, have you the miniature?” 

“Yes, Bob,” said Andy; “here is the face of our mo- 
ther.” They were little boys again. 

“Mother was here to-day — I heard her sing,” said 
Bob. * 

“ So did I, Bob,” said Andy, “ though like you, I don’t 
understand these things.” 

Neither Andy nor Rachel had much money. The peo- 
ple knew it, and said, “Ten families can support a pas- 
tor as well as we live ourselves,” and they did it. They 
built a plain parsonage and gave a glorious “ donation” — 
loads of hard maple, sacks of flour, not one small potato; 
and odd Dick Brunton saw John Lincoln — while all were 
merry in the house — tie a fine pay horse to the beech 
tree in the yard, ticketed “Presented to my Pastor.” 
Where Andy and Rachel could not have ingrain carpet, 
they had rag ; and where not rag, the clean white boards ; 
and so on to the end. They had a perfect horror of 
debt. 

Then Andy put oh the harness like one who never 
takes it off. He said, “ Every sermon shall be the 


156 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

best. To know men I must go among them'^' — and 
men who had cursed ministers were delighted with his 
common sense and humor. The blacksmith who shod 
the bay for him said to his wife Betsey, Why, that 
new minister takes hold of my sooty hand as if it was 
a man's hand; is gentle to me when he hain’t got no 
subscription paper ; touches his hat to me when he’s 
talking with big lawyer Benton and his proud wife; 
asks questions, as if he thought I knew something he 
didn’t ; stands by my anvil while I make a ‘ shoe ’ and 
shoe the ‘bay,’ and listens to my poor talk. Betsey, 
I never had sich feelings ; shouldn’t wonder if went 
to meetin’. I’d like to know his God, I would. Say, 
Betsey, I ain’t goin’ to swear no more; kin ye brush 
up my old coat? ’Pears to me you ought to have a 
new dress and a new bonnet, Betsey. Well, I’m sorry; 
let it all go, will ye ? I’ll let ye have the minis- 
ter’s bill (he asked after ye) and more, to fix up the 
children. Watch Flint, did you say? Yes; if he comes 
to my shop again with his pious pizen — ‘ no man fur 
the place’ — I’ll take up my sledge-hammer, and he’ll 
go, or the commandments ’ll break ! ” 

Big tears trickled down Betsey’s cheeks, but they 
were not like the old ones. No! The visions of her 
youth suddenly came back, and somehow or other she 
thought the door was opened upon a brighter future. 

Andy went everywhere, among all classes, bearing 
about with him the spirit of his Lord ; and he lifted 
and drove away real and imaginary clouds from many a 


157 


FIRST SETTLEMENT. 


hearthstone and lonely heart never approached before 
a minister. Everywhere he excited hope and courage. 

The discouraged church greatly rejoiced, and aggressive 
work was done. They had always been on the defensive. 
Enthusiasm was kindled, and the church yielded to the 
moulding and leading of the pastor’s wise, strong hand. 
He was not too wise to err, but too noble to be unjust; 
hence no rebuke left an unpardonable sting, and he 
made the humblest and saddest feel that he had as 
much right to be glad in God’s house as himself. The 
feeblest felt protected and the saddest glad. 


J 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


A SPLENDID EFFORT AND A DARK CLOUD, 


“ What is the existence of man’s life, 
But open war, or slumbered strife?” 



ASKING SHORE” lay in the track of emi- 


i j gration. The dusty caravan tented there, and 
much of it staid and talked its unbelief. Some said, 
‘‘The Church abridged inherent right, with regard to 
Sunday and Science.” 

“ Rachel,” said Andy one day, on his return from 
outdoor work, “I am sad; the old Glasgow leaven — 
skepticism — is cursing the town.” 

“Why do you think so, Andrew?” 

“ Harry Granger’s mind is poisoned ! ” 

“ What more can you do than you are now doing, 
husband ? You are faithful ! ” 

“ I can and will preach a sermon that by God’s 
help will save our young men. I know these men, root 
and branch. Skeptical thought is assumptive and ego- 
tistical, and hence, shallow. Bold denial is its only 
strength. It only contemplates destruction. God knows 


A SPLENDID EFFORT AND A DARK CLOUD. 


159 


my old sufferings, and I see now why He let me suf- 
fer as I did.” 

Father used to say,” said Rachel, no one ever 
failed who did his duty. But would it not be better to 
preach the gospel, and take no notice of them?” 

‘‘That is what I will do, Rachel, and rake them 
fore and aft. I know their rotten ship from stem to 
stern. It is simply duty to meet this crisis boldly and 
unsparingly.” 

“ God bless you, my husband and pastor,” said 
Rachel ; “ many strong hearts will hold you up.” 

Through three months the sermon daily grew. He 
grew more and more childlike, and people* were drawn 
around him by some sympathy they could not under- 
stand — came, thinking to carry him^ and were themselves 
carried. 

The well-springs that supply 
The streams are seldom spent 
For clouds of rain come by 
To pay them what they lent.” 


One bright day in June, Andy said, “ Next Sunday 
I will preach a sermon on the ‘Perils in the Town, and 
Christ our Hope.’” The people bowed their hea*ds in 
thankfulness, as now they saw the spirit putting out, 
which had made him strangely beautiful for weeks. “We 
see now,” they said, “he has been walking with God.’’ 

The Sunday came. Andy rose calmly, and looked 
upon the sea of faces, beautiful in the light of confident 
expectation, and knew h\s victory was sure. 


i6o 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


The sermon defied description. There were bursts 
on bursts of unwritten thought — brilliant flashes which 
never could be gathered up, any more than you can 
gather lightning. Every element of popular power was 
in it. The peril of infidelity he boldly met, and every 
sentence scathed. With solid logic he struck and shat- 
tered the key of the infidel position, and with ming- 
led pity and humor exposed their baseless imaginings 
and limping philosophy; pausing only, in his hot ar- 
raignment, to put his arms tenderly around some poor 
victim, and bear him to Christ. 

The effect was wonderful. The people smiled at 
his humor, wept at his tenderness, trembled under the 
perils of the young, and rejoiced over the magnificent 
victory. John Lincoln spoke right out for all, The 
town is saved to evangelical religion ! ” and it was. 
Harry Granger and ‘‘the Club” took his hand and said, 
“Mr. Macdonald, you have saved us — what shall we do?” 

Elder Stimford was there — had come many miles — 
and that grand face sent waves on waves of sympathy 
on Andy as he preached. Taking his hand after the 
sermon, he said, “There is none great but One, Andy.” 

As Mr. Flint was on his way to get his horses 
from the shed, after the sermon, he saw Mrs. Tinder 
standing at the corner of the meeting-house, and said, 
“Best ride in our waggin, Mrs. Tinder; got room — 
only Stryker and Mrs. Soapman. Jerusha couldn’t come 
(wouldn’t, had he known it) ; best ride — long way to foot 


A SPLENDID EFFORT AND A DARK CLOUD. l6l 

“ Thank ye, Mr. Flint, guess I wull. Corns bin hurt’n’ 
dreadful all meet’n’ time. Guess a big storm’s a brew’n. 
Guess some thunder and light’n’s a cornin’ ! Shouldn’t 
wonder if it struck some’rs ’round ’ere ! ” 

“ Du tell ! ” said Flint, du say 1 Wuss’n corns with 
me. There hain’t ever been sich a storm in Bask’n 
Shore” as’ll be — or I’m no judge of weather. • The 
house of the Lord am disecrated to-day.” 

‘^Blessed man,” said Mrs. Tinder; ‘‘you am a ‘rim- 
nent,” and so is I. Glad to know you feel the dise- 
cration— know’d ye would! And they had a fiddle, 
too ! Ah 1 ah I ” 

“Thank ye, Mrs. Tinder, fur say’n I’s a ‘rimnent.’ 
I seed the disecration, and the fiddle, too, and prayed 
fur strength to do my dooty. Fie — a dyin’ man to dyin’ 
men, and heaven and hell afore’m all — made ’m laugh 
in God’s house. Even me, Mrs. Tinder, was tempted 
and fell, and I repent in dust and ashes for laugh’n’. 
Oh! oh! oh!” 

Tinder and Stryker joined in the “ Oh ! ” Mrs. Soap- 
man, poor woman, a little. 

The wagon had now reached the “Corners,” where 
Flint’s party left him. As they did so, he said, “ Good 
arternoon — dooty afore pleasure. Cast out the unholy 
thing from among you. Eh, friends ? ” 

“ Aye ! aye ! ” was the reply. 

Flint gave his horse a dreadful blow. 


i 62 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Month after month the Freethinkers and the ‘‘Wagon 
Party ” strove to drive away the minister. “ The end 
justifies the means,” they said, and either lied or spoke the 
truth as best suited them. Just what they said need not 
here be told, as the sum of all was, “He’s not the 
man for the f51ace.” In every direction Andy crossed 
their tracks, .especially of the “ Wagon Party.” He pit- 
ied for awhile, then acted. 

“ Good mornin’, my dear pastor,” said Flint in his 
blandest manner, as Andy entered his house. “ Great 
sarmon that you preached; made the unbelievers hollar. 
How’s the fam’ly ; pray’d fur ’em at fam’ly altar las’ night.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Flint,” said Andy, hardly able to 
endure the insincerity. 

“ Mr. Flint ! Ain’t I brother Flint ?” said Flint angrily. 

“ Not my brother,” answered the pastor, “ if your 
work is correctly reported. I hope it is not ! ” 

“What hev I done?” asked Flint, red in the face. 

“ You know, Mr. Flint.” 

“ How do you know I know?” cried Flint. Then 
throwing off all disguise, and assuming the role of “de- 
fender of the faith,” he said : “ I said you wan’t no Holy 
Ghost man from the fust. Hain’t been no revival since 
ye came ; and ye ‘ ain’t no man for the place,’ nohow. 
The wicked an4 the infidels are cuss’n’ and fight’n’ all 
the time since ye came — ’specially since ye preached 
that sermon — and ye ain’t no man for the place. I 
know’d it from the first, and I’ll stick to it ! ” yelled 
the infuriated creature. 


A SPLENDID EFFORT AND A DARK CLOUD. 1 63 

God sent me here,” calmly said Macdonald, and 
I shall stay until He tells me to go. You, sir, shall 
not hinder me in His work. Confess now, sir, the 
great injury you have done the caiise^ and let there 
be peace.” 

‘ I confess ! I retract ! ” said Flint, bringing down 
his foot. ‘‘ I ! the ' rimnent of Isr’el,’ as sister Tinder 
says. Guess so! when Stony Brook runs up Bill Bru- 
den’s hill.” 

The minister bowed himself out as calmly as lie 
went in, with no malice in his heart, but rather amused 
at Flint’s being a rimnent” — a large one of old Adam, 
he thought — but fully resolved upon what course the 
church must take, to preserve its self-respect. As he 
reached the gate where the bay stood, neighing in 
recognition, he heard his name called. Turning about, 
he saw Mrs. J'lint coming down the walk towards him, 
unable to keep back her tears. 

^‘This is a sad thing, pastor,” she said; ^^save my 
husband, if you can.” 

Andy felt sorry, for the moment, that he had touched 
the matter, as he looked into the face of the suffering, 
overworked woman, but kindly said : Zion’s peace and 
honor are worth more than ours, good woman. Let 
us do right; care for God’s honor, and He will take 
care of us.” 

‘‘He will! I know He will!” said the woman, and 
weeping, turned away. 

The minister stepped up to “ Dandy,” his horse, 


164 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


and patted him on the neck, saying, ‘‘Fine fellow; be 
still now ! “ Dandy ” understood nis master, and knew 

that he^ was not excluded from his fellowship. At the 
word, he trotted off as if proud to bear such a man, 
and anxious to get away from Mr. Flint’s. Horses 
know men. “Dandy” had lived in Flint’s stable. John 
Lincoln had bought “Dandy” of Flint. 

Excepting Mrs. Soapman, who was a weak woman 
and had been led astray, the “ Wagon Party ” was 
rolled out of the church, by a unanimous vote. 

Then Andy said, among other things, that a min- 
ister was not like a roadmaster, elected for one year; 
and so long as he could preach a tolerably good ser- 
mon, maintain Christian discipline in his family, pay 
his debts, and walk orderly as a good citizen, the 
people should think twice before they dismissed him. 

Other clouds lowered gloomily at times. Political, anti- 
slavery, and Masonic discussions; different opinions con- 
cerning methods and creeds; old and new school doctrines, 
together with jealousies and race prejudices, threatened 
ruinous divisions; but the minister rose up in his great 
sagacity, firmness, love and remarkable justice, and by 
God’s blessing, caused the clouds to break and scud away. 
Sometimes prayer calmed the troubled waters; sometimes 
a song, and often a little of his quaint Scotch humor, did 
more than either prayer or song, because there was in 
reality no cause for division and strife. 

Afflictions came also into his own household, as well 
as into John Lincoln’s, by the sickness and death of 


A- SPLENDID EFFORT AND A DARK CLOUD. 1 65 

beautiful boys, who had played together all the sum- 
mer day. In a truly great man’s heart there is a 
most beautifully furnished room for a little child — and 
such a heart was Andy’s. Oh, how he loved his chil- 
dren! and how they did love him! And when his 
bright Milton lay dead before him, it cost him a greater 
struggle to submit, than he had known since his own 
mother died in Glasgow. He had looked at his son, 
and said, ‘‘ Wherein I am a failure as a minister, Milton 
will be a great success. Everything betokens wisdom, 
grace and power. My boy will do great things for 
Jesus.” But trial enlarged and mellowed tiie man, and 
the sermons he afterwards preached in sight of Milton’s 
grave, on the Resurrection and Heaven, lifted the bereaved 
of his flock to the very gate of the ‘‘ City of God ; ” 
and God’s hand wiped away the bitterest tears at last. 

We pray to be qualified, and God chooses the pro- 


cess. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 1. 


WHEREIN IS TOLD HOW ANDY DEALT WITH A MAN 

IN YEARS, BUT LESS THAN A CHILD IN MIND 

DICK BRUNTON. 


“ His reason strove in vain to find his way. 
Lost in the stormy desert of his brain,” 


NDY, LIKE CHRIST, sympathized with the 



weakest — and that one was poor odd Dick 


Brunton. When Dick was ten years old, scarlet fever 
laid him down at the door of the beyond. He recov- 
ered, but alas, with a clouded, uncertain brain ; and 
many said ‘‘ Dick Brunton had better gone on.’^ While 
convalescing, his overworked parents died, and his kind 
grandmother — a woman highly respected in the town, 
for her intelligence and kindly disposition in times of 
sickness — took him to her home, and, appreciating his 
sad mental condition, humored and protected him. 
‘‘ He is only a child,” she said. 

At the age of twenty-five, Dick was strong in body 
and sharp at times at the one bright point of memory^ 
but always a boy. Imagine a man of medium size; hair 


\ 


DICK BRUNTON. 


167 


long and white; short roundabout — that he would not 
give up — short trowsers, broad- brimmed hat, with flowers 
or feather in the band, and coarse, heavy shoes on his 
feet, and you see, in a measure, Dick Brunton. 

Dick liked bright colors and music, and, in odd re- 
galia, was always on hand at celebrations and political 
meetings ; and if the “ Whigs” with whom he marched 
failed m music, he joined the Democrats,” saying, 
“ The Whigs wan’t worth a punk’n fur drums.” For 
these things he had a mania. 

Dick was a steady church-goer — rain or shine; wait- 
ed on granny to the door, and then went into the gal- 
lery, to keep the boys in order, as he said. He had a 
large idea of his importance. On one occasion he 
saw farmer Flint asleep; and, being no respecter of 
persons, brought down his hickory stick on the man’s 
shoulders. Flint laid hold on the frightened fellow’s 
coat, and led him down stairs, saying, ‘‘You wicked sin- 
ner, Dick Brunton, you’ll go to hell.” The affair caused 
immense fun in the town, and poor Dick could not be 
persuaded for months afterwards to go further inside 
the church than the broad window-sill in the stairway. 

As soon as Andy came to “ Basking Shore,” he no- 
ticed this odd creature; and when John Lincoln told him 
the story, he at once gave him his love. One day the 
pastor, having planned his sermon, went out into the 
great forest, to walk and think. Hearing footsteps, he 
turned and saw Dick Brunton striding along with pole 
and bait, and said, “ Halloo, Dick, going a fishing ?” 


i68 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


“ Yes,” said Dick slowly, and walked on, neither 
looking to the right nor the left; as much as to say 
‘^and that's my business.” 

‘‘Hold on, my dear fellow; I'd like to go with 
you, I would. Will you let me ?'' said Andy. 

Dick was very much surprised that the “ Elder '' 
should want to go with him, and, in a jerking way, 
said, “ You hain’t got eny fish line, nor eny worms.'' 

“ No, Dick,'' said Andy ; “ but I used to fish once 
in Scotland, when a boy; and I’d like to see you fish. 
Take me, will you ?” ’ 

“ Kin ye be still ?” 

“ Still as mice, Dick.” 

“ You’ll tell the boys my fish-place ?” 

“ Never in the world, Dick.” 

“ Come on. Did’nt s’pose Elders fished.” 

“ Oh yes they do. St. Peter went a fishing once.” 

“Granny said — ye knows granny — ‘St. Peter, es yo 
calls 'm, didn’t or’to'.” 

On they went through the vast forest without, speak- 
ing for some time, Dick leading the way very thought- 
fully, for him, when suddenly he laid down his pole, 
darted away, and soon returned with the most beauti- 
ful bunch of wild flowers Andy had ever seen. There 
were violets, forget-me-nots, and dogwood blossoms. 
Dick placed them in Andy's hands, saying, “Luv po- 
sies, Elder ?” 

“Thank you, Dick, I do love flowers; but I love 
you better — a great deal better — didn't you know that?” 
said Andy, tenderly. 


DICK BRUNTON. 


169 


Dick turned his eyes into Andy’s face and won- 
dered; and walked closer to the side of the minister, 
till Andy felt the touch of Dick’s hand. Three miles 
by this time had been passed over, when suddenly a 
great pool of water spread out before them, which set 
in from a turbulent stream rushing on to the river. 

Fish here,” said Dick, and raised his long fore- 
finger, to order silence, a^ he said it. 

In a few moments a large sunfish dangled at the end 
of Dick’s line; and in succession many more. He then 
passed the pole to the minister, who only got a bite, 
as usual. 

“ Hark ! ” said Dick — ‘‘ thunder ! ” Hurriedly he 
gathered up his tackle and fish, and said, Now fur 
hum’ an granny. Elder — git wet ! ” More quickly they 
returned than they came. A terrific thunder-storm was 
gathering. 

On reaching Andy’s gate, Dick handed him the 
string of fish, saying, ‘^Them’s your’n. Go agin. Elder?” 

‘‘Thank you, Dick; glad to go,” said Andy. Dick 
Brunton had captured the Elder, and the Elder, Dick. 

On the Sunday after this affair, Dick said, “Granny!” 

“ What, my son ?” said the kind old lady. 

“ What be Elders fur ? I loves the Elder a mighty 
sight, granny 1 ” 

“To tell us about the Saviour, Dick; and I am glad 
you love him.” 

“What He do, granny — the Saviour?” 

“ He died to save us, my son.” 

8 


SUNSHINE Ar^IONG THE CLOUDS. 


170 


‘‘Fur old Jake Flint, granny ?” 

“ He died for all^ Dick,” said the old pilgrim. 

“ Didn’t or’to fur Flint. Mistake, granny.” 

Poor Dick could not forget Flint’s harsh treatment and 
coarse words, “Dick Brunton, you’ll go to hell.” Dick 
crossed the minister’s path very often after this — sprang 
up in public and private places, and seemed always near 
by, to wait on him. From behind the stone wall he would 
watch for Andy’s coming, and follow him for miles. Fie 
took less interest in training days and political meetings 
after this, and acted like one who was trying hard to 
think through hard questions, which in truth were very 
simple. He left the gallery and sat in the front pew with 
granny, to her great delight and surprise, and looked up 
eagerly, at Andy, hungry to know what it all meant. 

At this time, granny told Macdonald her belief that 
Dick’s mind was improving. The fact is, Dick was 
creeping under the cover of the minister’s great strength 
through his love ; felt a new-born peace ; got a , new 
idea; talked with granny constantly about “ the Elder;” 
dared anybody to speak against him, and became wild 
with rage if one did. 

Thus matters stood when granny died, telling Dick to 
“mind the minister, and meet her in heaven.” The 
poor fellow cried piteously when they put her body 
into the grave, and tried to pull the shovel away from one 
of the bearer’s hands, bringing tears to the eyes of 
many. All that night, with his head resting on the 
fresh earth, he wept bitterly, and called “ Granny I 


DICK ERUNTON. 

1/1 

Granny ! come back to Dick, Granny ! ” and all Bask- 
ing Shore” respected the child-man’s love and tears. 

The pastor, as soon as told that the poor mourner 
could not be persuaded to leave granny’s grave, hastened 
there, sat down by his side, stroked his head for some 
lime, and then tenderly said Dick, come and go 
home now.” 

Havn’t got no hum,” sobbed Dick. 

‘‘Why yes you have; it is all yours — the house and 
a whole acre of land.” 

“Oh dear me, what kin I do? — Granny, don,’t you 
hear ?” 

“ Cheer up, Dick ; you’ll be taken care of,” said the 
minister. 

“ Hain’t got nobody to luv me. She didn’t p’int 
fingers on me. Dear me! dear me! — never go to that 
hum eny more. ’Tain’t no hum ’out granny!” 

“ Well, well ; you needn’t go there any more, Dick ; 
come and live with me^ and take care of ‘ Dandy,’ and 
ride with me — how will that do?” 

“ D’ye mean that. Elder ?” said Dick. 

“ I do,” said the pastor. 

The days of Dick’s intense grief ended. Rising up, 
he brightened, as a child will, and said, “ Elder, I’ll go 
to yo7ir hum.’-’ 

One day, when they were together in the woods 
again, Dick gathered some violets, and Andy told him 
that “ God made them, and everything.” 

“ What fur did God make granny die ?” asked Dick. 


172 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


That grave was a dark, frightful mystery to him since 
it had his friend. 

“To take her to heaven,” said the “Elder.” 

“Where be heaven?” asked Dick, wondering; “where 
be it?” 

“ In the sunshine above the clouds, where God is.” 

“ Granny there ?” 

“Yes,” said the minister, “granny is there; and she 
is very happy.” 

“ How did granny get up there ? Don’t see eny lad- 
der.” , 

“The Lord took her.” 

A cloud passed over Dick’s face as he said, “ Granny 
in the ground! ” 

“ Her body is in the ground, Dick ; but her soul is 
in heaven,” said Andy. 

“ Soul ? soul ?” repeated Dick; “ what be soul ?” 

Andy saw his embarrassed look, and said — holding 
the feeble mind to the idea of God — “ God gave 
granny to you; God, our dear Father!' 

“ Did he ?” said Dick. “ Father ! Father ! ” 

“Yes, and He gave me to you.” 

“ God do that ?” said Dick, brightening up. “ Father 
give you ! — I love God. You going where granny be ?” 

“Yes, some day. Do you want to be where granny 
is, and I shall be?” 

“ Sart’n — nowhere else,” said Dick, with unusual em- 
phasis. “ I goes where you goes.” 

By slow degrees the image of God in Christ was 


DICK BRUNTON. 


173 


formed in Dick’s mind; and although he never could 
explain himself, his life grew more and more beautiful; 
developed as it was more through love than by doctrine, 
and he declared to all that he loved the Elder’s God, 
and everybody, and brother Flint some — though as to 
him he did ask, when told that he would go to heaven, 
“ Do they all live in the same house, Elder ?” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


GLASGOW — CHANGES MACDONALD BREAKS DOWN — 


SELLS OUT. 


“ The world goes up, and the world goes down.” 



HE CLYDE rolls on as ever; has its tides, and 


keeps terrible secrets. Ships go and come from 


every port, and bring wealth and poverty. The strug- 
gle for bread goes on by the counter, forge and loom. 
Ministers preach, and the need continues. Lawyers 
plead, politicians plot for office, the clown see7ns happy, 
and the boot-black is. The kirk is sustained, and so is 
the Working Man’s Retreat.” Molly Howden is queen 
of the bar, and her old customers are seedy. Glas- 
gow is an epitome of the pagan and Christian world, 
and contains all the possible characters of Shakespeare, 
Dickens, and the Bible. Beyond the river is Willow 
Place;” but deserted and gloomy. The branches of the 
trees still whip the gutters and closed shutters, and 
the swallow’s nest under the eaves. Curious eyes peer 
through the uncut hedge; boys climb the side walls, and 
on stormy nights the wretched burglar of the papers 
knocks at the kitchen door in vain ; goes into the 


MEDITATING SUICIDE. 



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MACDONALD BRLAKS DOWN. ^ 1 75 

broken stables, and sleeps off the last glass of gin ; 
sees, in his delirium, spirits black and white, gliding in 
and out of the narrow windows; and a woman in white 
standing in the observatory looking over the Clyde. 
These, and other mysterious matters, are reported and 
talked over in the Retreat.” 

Occasionally — and now for the last time — a man 
whose hair is iron-gray; eye cold and bitter; step 
haughty and defiant, passed in, remained a while, came 
out, closed and locked the heavy oaken door, pried his 
name from it, and departed. He was Andrew Mac- 
donald, Sen. Alice is dead, and the boys are as dead 
to him. Peggie and Jeanie are gone away, and only 
one friend remains to him; and he is John Maccullum, 
the faithful foreman. 

Author of his misery is Macdonald! He sowed to the 
whirlwind, and reaps the storm. How differently he might 
be situated ! Had he consented, the ivy of charity would 
now' conceal the rents of infirmity, and the wear and 
tear of time. Wretched man 1 he reels in the storm 
like a tottering wall, and, like it, wdll fall. In the 
agony of his desolation the fibers of a better being 
will form, perhaps — who can tell? The wind bloweth 
wdiere it listeth.” Christ* dies for men who spear Him! 

As he w'alked on the bridge, he cursed his fate, 
w'ith a deep and dreadful oath, making a w^oman then 
passing by shudder and hasten on. He stopped in 
the middfe of the bridge, leaned against the railing 
looked over, and said, ‘‘Shall I jump into the river? 


176 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS 


Now I go down and up, and up and down, twenty times a 
day; then three times only, and all will be over. 
Which is easier ? They will grapple, and draw me 
from the water, or find me floating out to sea, carry 
me to the dead-house, and report ‘a suicide.’ What 
do I do ? Take myself off, who will be taken off, 
willing or unwilling. I shall not cheat myself, but fate — 
and fate will only grin. Whether I stay or go, there 
is nothing beyond for me. They say, ^To run away 
is but a coward’s trick ; ’ but I am no coward : who 
says so? 

I shall sink 

As sinks a stranger in the crowded streets 
Of busy London. Some short bustlers caused ; 

A few enquiries; and the crowds close in, 

And all’s forgotten. ” 


Just then a shout of joy rang in the man’s ear, 
from down the river. James Lambert had saved a 
woman and boy from drowning. Why,” said he, “ save 
a woman who did not want to be saved, or a boy who 
did? Is what men call life a good thing to save?” 

Macdonald had stood there two long hours, debat- 
ing the dreadful question; and then, by that glad shout 
restrained, slowly and gloomily passed along to the 
shop, where the auctioneer’s flag fluttered above Mac- 
donald & Co.” The “House” had met with heavy 
losses from year to year, which, however, it could have 
weathered; but a general monetary crisis had, in a sin- 
gle day, swept over the great cities, and its notes, like 


MACDONALD BREAKS DOWN. 1 77 

tens of thousands of others, went to protest. This 
wounded Macdonald’s great pride, and he resolved to 
wind up his business and leave Scotland forever! 

John Maccullum’s head fell on his breast, when Mac- 
donald firmly declared his intention, and he said, Sir, I 
ken we can build up the business ance main When 
ye were drooning i’ the sea, I helpt ye oot ; an I’ll 

help ye oot noo, if ye’ll trust me, sir ! ” 

“No, John,” replied Macdonald, touched by this de- 
votion, “ I have grown ten years older to-day. See my 
hands, how they tremble. Is not my head whiter? I 
thank you, but I am defeated. Fate is hard against 

me. I can never rise again. Young men are already 

in the street who will ride me down to deeper humilia- 
tion, and I cannot bear any more. I shall leave Scot- 
land, John — I must 

“Aweel! aweel! I’ll gang wi ye tae the ends o’ 
the warld, master; but there is na ^ faie,^ There is a 
gude God^ wha will na ‘quench the smoking flax, nor 
brak the bruised reed.’ Ye maun trust the Lord^ who 
canna do wrang; an He leads to the licht, through 
darkness. Coom awa to the Lord, master.” 

Cruel as is the spirit of the world in its abandon- 
ments, the black clouds are broken by the sunshine 
of long-suffering fidelity ; and this is found oftener 
than elsewhere among the lowly who serve. 

The sale went on. Everything was sold. Fortu- 
nately, however, enough was realized from the sale to 
8 # 


178 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

pay off all liabilities, and leave in Macdonald’s hands 
a few hundred pounds. 

Quietly Macdonald, Maccullum, and Aunty Libby 
sailed for Montreal, Canada. 


“Revile him not. The tempter hath 
A snare for all ; 

And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath. 
Befit his fall.’* 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


UNCLE MATT AND HENRY SELDEN. 


NE MID-WINTER’S NIGHT Henry Selden was 



returning to his room, in the city of Rochester 


from a preaching service, which he had held at Charlotte 
a village on the Genesee river, below the Falls. His over- 
coat was buttoned closely, and his fur cap drawn down 
over his ears and face, so as to protect them from the 
searching wind. He was a very happy man, as he 
trudged along through the snow, thinking of the rich mes- 
sage he had delivered to the people, and charmed by 
visions of future years of grander labors. No one was 
near, and he began to sing that stirring old hymn of 
Philip Doddridge, “Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve.’' 
When he had reached the first line of the second verse ^ 
“A cloud of witnesses around,” the low moan of a man 
startled him. He stopped, listened, and looked up and 
down the road, but saw nothing save one vast stretch of 
cold snow. “The voice of a man, certainly,” he said, 
when, more piteously than before,’ came the moan and 
prayer, “ Lord bress dis chile in de slu of dispond ! ” Guid- 
ed by the voice, Selden saw, in the angle of the worm 


l8o SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

fence, the prostrate body of a man nearly covered by the 
snow. With a bound, he stood by his side and raised 
him to liis feet, hurriedly asking, ‘‘Who are you? What’s 
the matter ? How did you got here ?” 

“ I’s Uncle Matt, massa. ’Spec I’s Uncle Matt no 
mo’. Mos’ dun gone, massa ! ” 

“ Uncle Matt what ?” said Selden. 

“ Dat’s all,” replied the black, “ dat’s all. When yer 
sees Uncle Matt, yer sees all dar is ob us, ’cept de Lord. 
Uncle Matt an de Lord trabble togedder forty yers in 
dis wild’ness world.” 

“ From what place did you come ?” asked Selden. 

“ Whar Uncle Matt cum from ? Uncle Matt got 
no hum, massa, ’cept ’bove de silber moon and stars^ 
in de New Jerus’lein and the black face turned 
reverently towards the North Star, shining then in all 
its winter vigor. 

“ Do you live in Rochester ?” said Selden. 

“What dat ? Roch’ter! Nebber lib in dat place. 
Dar wha’ you live ?” And the man stepped away 
from Selden. Selden at once understood the situation, 
and said, “ Uncle Matt, I’m a preacher^ 

“ What dat you say ? Preacher ! Press de good 
Lord fo’ dat, massa. Regular preacher ?” 

“ Come,” said Selden, “ we shall freeze here ; you are 
almost frozen now.” 

“ Yah,” said Uncle Matt, shivering ; “ my toes is like 
chunks, an de blood all friz, massa.” 

Selden quietly took hold of the man’s arm, and 


UNCLE MATT. l8l 

Started towards the city. They had proceeded a few 
steps only, when the fugitive stopped, eyed Selden sus- 
piciously^ then turned and walked towards I^ake Ontario. 

Selden laid his hand firmly on the blaclds shoulder, 
forced him round, and said “You shall! Do you want 
to die here alone in the snow 

“ Uncle Matt no keer for def. Why should he keer 
for def? No, Boss, I nebber go dat way — nebber! 
No Norf Star dat way. I go de way dis cane fall.^^ 
Holding the stick perpendicularly a moment, he pushed 
it over toward Canada. 

Selden laughed at this native shrewdness, but said, 
“ You fnust come — trust me now — no harm shall come 
to you.” 

“ Ton honah, massa ? — ’pon honah ?” 

“ On my honor as a preacher,” said Selden. 

“ Dy will be done, bressed Lord,” said Uncle Matt, 
and surrendered to the student’s will. 

On the way to the city, it came out that the man 
had walked from Beaufort, S. C. ; hiding in the woods 
by day and traveling by nighty to reach Canada. 

“ Uncle Matt, are you a freeman, or a slave ?” askeS 
Selden. 

“ Bof, sah ! ” 

“ How is that?” said Selden, amazed. 

“ Massa Felton good to dis darkey — good. All de 
darkies on de plantation lub massa Felton; an one day 
he sez, ‘Ole boy wants to go free ?’ an I sez, ‘ Tinks so, 
massa;’ an he sez, ‘ Dar am some Ian’. You work dat 


102 


SUNSPIINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Ian’, an raise cotton, an buy yerself wid de money.’ 
‘Tank ye, massa,’ I sez; an in dat way I pays for half 
ob Uncle Matt.” 

“ And then you ran away ?” 

“ Cum ’way den wid de half dat ’long to dis dar- 
key.” 

“ What did the other half do ?” 

“ ’Spec dat odder half what ’long to Massa Felton 
come ’long too. Lub Massa Felton. Lub Uncle Matt 
mo, ’spec ! ” 

“ Do you love the Lord ?” 

“Lub de Lord? Bress yer heart. Uncle Matt guv 
hisself to de Lord mo’n fo’ty yers ago ! Preach dc 
gospel, massa; ’bout Moses an chill’n ob Isr’el, an dc 
bressed Jesus on de cross, dat ebbery mis’able sinnah 
like dis darkey mout shine in de white robes ’mong 
all de angels ob hebben. Hallelu ! ” 

“Preached the gospel, did you, Uncle Matt?” 

“Yes dc tru gospel, massa” — and the black’s eyes 
rolled like full moons up at Selden — “to all de brak 
mis’able sinners on . de plantation. Can’t preach like 
Massa Felton. He’s pow’ful. When Massa Felton preach, 
niggars swa’m like bees all roun’ him. Mbs Dolly 
Felton she come too. Miss Dolly bootiful and fa’r. 
’Spec ye’d like Miss Dolly, massa” — and the black’s 
eyes glittered. 

“Uncle Matt, have you got a wife!” asked Selden. 

“ Got no wife now,” Boss. Had Dinah fur my 
wife, ye’rs. Link I rim’d away from Dinah ? She’s 


UNCLE MATT. 


I S3 

gone dead, an de Lord took her sper’t to dc New 

Jcrus’lem, whar dc Fader’s han’ wipe all dc tears off 

ferebber ! Seed her las’ night, Boss, wid a crown on 

her ’fulgent head, an a robe white as silber, an’ she 
was a play’n on a gold harp, an a sing’n de song ob 
Moses an de Lam’.” 

Have you any children, old. pilgrim?” 

“What dat you sez ? — pil’ram ? Yah, I’s pil’ram an 
a stranger; I kin tarry but a while. I’s go’n up dar to 
Dinah, when de Bri’groom comes ; an Fs got de 

lamp trim’d an a burn’n, wat’n fur Flis com’n. Don’t 
kotch dis darkey sleep’n when de Bri’groom comes. 
I’s a watch’ll an a pray’n all de time, les’ I sleep.” 

Then he began to sing — 

* Moses ’n ’Lijah’s jes’ gone ’long, 

An Dinah she’s gone (00 ; 

I’ll trabble on in de gospel road. 

Oh! glory, hallelu ! ” 

“ I asked you. Uncle Matt, whether you had any 
children 

“ Law sakes. Boss, I’s got as many boys as I’s got 
fingers on one han,’ an as many gals as fingers on 
t’odder, an’ one more.” 

“ What are their names ?” * 

“ Dere’s Abe, de fus’-bom ; den Moses, den Sal, den 
Dave, den Mir’am, den George Wash’ton, den ’Lumbus.” 

“ Columbus^ do you mean ?” said Selden, 

“ Yas, ’Lumbus. Den ’Lizah, den de res’ ob de gals.” 

“Well, tell me their names.” 


184 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘‘Is dat Roch’ter, Boss ? — What de bell ring n fur ?” 

“A fire, I guess, Uncle Matt. Yes, it shoots up now 
in the south part of the city. Go on ; give me the 
other names, uncle Matt.’’ 

“ ’Pears yez mighty ti’kler. Dere’s Sal, an Mir’am, an 
Cloe, an Beky an Jane, an Dinah, de las’-born. Dinah 
is de todder.” 

“ Do they all love the Lord ?” 

“ All ’cept Dave ; he’s tempted to def wid de banjo. 
Play’n all night in de cabin. Golly, Boss, how Dave kin 
play’m! I pray de bressed Jesus make Dave come tru’ 
de hell ob conwiction, an de banjo too. Den he lead 
the sing’n an music in the cam’ meeting an sanct’ary.” 

Thus the gifted, young minister and the friendless 
fugitive conversed on the way to the city. Taking 
counsel of his manhood, Selden protected the “black,” 
and led him to the house of an English Quaker on 
the easterly side of the town,, who fed and lodged 
him. When the Quaker arose in the morning. Uncle 
Matt was gone. 


CHAPTER X L. 


THE SEA — MONTREAL — HOME IN THE WILDERNESS. 


*‘In every object here I see 
Something, my heart, that points to thee.” 


NDREW MACDONALD, John Maccullum and 



his wife are at sea — the mysterious deep, into 


which have sunk freighted ships, gold, and human life. 
Years since the men beheld it, when becalmed, and 
wailed till the night- winds filled the idle sails, and bore 
them on their journey; and beheld it when remorseless 
billows swept the deck, and strained the very keel. 

Macdonald is at sea, in its dreariest moral turbu- 
lency, nor suspects that Macdonald is the storm of 
Macdonald. John Maccullum is at sea, but grandly 
walks the waves with Him who said to the waves, 
Be still.” He sailed in the warm gulf-stream of Di- 
vine love, and, in his hearty way, led others there. 

When Macdonald was drowning, John thought not 
of his own peril; and, having made his past sublime, 
Avanted not to run away from himself His to-day is 
the flower of yesterday’s planting. Mrs. Maccullum is 
at sea, and did not like it. Good, honest woman, she 


lo6 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

could not see how Jonah was so badly off in his an- 
cient schooner, the whale — nearly ribbed round, steadied, 
and sure of a landing — for God was his pilot; but she 
naively added that she did na begroodge his experi- 
ence.’’ 

As to the rest, she felt sure of her footing, since 
she was going with John, and knew where that was, 
when she read in the Good Book, “By their fruits ye 
shall know them.” She often said, “ Ma mon canna 
do mair for ithers if he was one o’ the angels.” Seeing 
Macdonald gloomily looking over the railing into the sea, 
she said, “I dinna ken what for John hings aboot him, 
unless to save him fra gang’n doon to hell.” 

Our party safely arrived at Montreal and took lodg- 
ings in a plain inn on a side street ; and, when 
rested, Maccullum went out to seek for work. He 
had not gone six blocks before a man from over the 
way shouted, “Halloo, John Maccullum!” 

“ Halloo, yersel’ ! Richard Ridly,” replied John. The 
men met and shook hands in the middle of the street, 
in a way so hearty as to attract the attention of pass- 
ers-by. 

“What can I do for you, John?” said Ridly. 

“Ye can gie me a help to wark,” replied Maccul- 
lum ; “I dinna ken onybody.” 

“ Come,” said Ridly ; and soon the two passed into 
Hiram Paxton’s “ Hat Manufactory.” 

Paxton listened to Ridly ’s. request and said, “ Cer- 
tainly, Richard; your friend can go to,Vv'ork now.” 




f 



t 


LOG HOUSE. 














A HOME IN THE WILDERNESS. 


187 


‘‘Thank ye, sir!” said John. “I canna coom now; 
I must settle Macdonald, the mon I cam’ wi’. D’ye ken 
him?” 

“Please yourself,” said Paxton. “Yes; if your man 
is Macdonald of Glasgow, I know of his misfortunes. 
Can I help you ?” 

“Ye can,” said John. “ Macdonald disna want to ken 
onybody, an it’s a’ arranged to buy a place i’ the coun- 
try, an leave him wi’ a servant till he maun be better.” 

“ Excellent plan ! ” said Paxton, much interested. “ A 
friend of mine has such a place — a few miles up the 
river — which can be bought for a very small sum. 
Seclusion and rest may restore the man, if there is no 
worm at the conscience, you know.” 

“ D’ye ken,” asked John, “ a mon wha is trusty, 
patient an cheerfu’ in a’ his ways ?” 

“ I do,” said Paxton ; “ his name is ‘ Uncle Matt.’ 

He has a fund of common sense and humor, and is 
popular in the stores ; he wants a steady place. There he 
goes now 1 Uncle Matt 1 Uncle Matt ! ” shouted Paxton. 

The “black” came in — the man Henry Selden found 
in the snow — and, bowing respectfully, said, “what, sah ?” 

“ This gentleman wants you to go up the river, to 
nurse a friend of his ; will you go ?” 

“ ’Spec’s Uncle Matt can do heap o’ nuss’n’, Massa 
Paxton. Nuss’d Massa Felton, one whole ’ ye’r — down 
wid the fever. He done ' bin gone fo’ dis time, but fo’ 
de nussin’ and pray’n’ an(i||sing’n’ o’ Uncle Matt. Miss 
Dolly sez dis chile ‘ de best nuss in all Souf Car’liny ! ’ ” 


i88 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Maccullum was delighted, and said, ‘‘Verra weel 
Uncle Matt, I tak’s to ye ; will ye gang wi’ us noo ? 
I ken ye can pray a’ the nicht, an nuss an sing a’ 
the day, an hae baith hands 

A broad grin spread over the ‘‘ black’s” face, as, 
eyeing Paxton, he said, What dat ? Nebber heard dat 
words befo’ — ’spec’ dat’s de Hebrews’ word, what Brud- 
der Moses used to de chil’en o’ Isr’el. What he sez, 
Massa Paxton?” 

‘‘He wants to know whether you will go and nurse 
his friend; and thinks your hands will be full.” 

“ Big hands, Massa Paxton, but dunno’ ’bout dat 
fust. If de Sper’t calls, den Uncle Matt go ebbery whar. 
Got the Norf Star now, and wants to keep him till de 
day ob de New Jerus’lem.” 

Maccullum engaged the “black,” and in a few days 
afterwards, took him and Macdonald to the log-house 
in the wilderness, bought of Paxton’s friend. 


CHAPTER XLI. 


REVIVAL OF RELIGION AT “ BASKING SHORE.” 


*‘He came in tongues of living flame, 
To teach, subdue ; 


All-powerful as the wind he came — 
As viewless too/’ 



OD IS ABOVE NATURE, beyond metaphysics ; 


Vjr and with Him is infinity, and the unknowable. 
The essence of religion is supernatural, and invariable. 
To know God is to know the first cause in matter 
and mind. Only so is first cause known; and knowing 
God in obedience, is religion. 

Delicate tints are not laid on, but are the flowers; 
and each has its own form, beauty and fragrance. The 
lily is the blossom of the supernatural in nature. Souls 
are more than flowers — are living, deathless products 
of God’s creative Spirit, and consciously touch Him. 
‘‘ Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid 
Thine hand upon me. . . . Whither shall I go from thy 
Spirit ?” 

In the body sphere, I feel sunshine, storm, health and 
pain; in the soul sphere, I feel the force of thought — in 


1 90 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

law and gospel, I feel what I cannot explain, because I 
do not fully comprehend ; but I know^ because I feel. 

Jesus, the Teacher, spake to the woman of Sychar, and 
she experienced the unexplainable — the supernatural — 
and, Avondering, left the world at the feet of the Teacher. 
Her God-filled soul forgot and abandoned the water-pot. 

Rev. Samuel Berkley said, Entirely and consciously 
distinct from the muscular force of will, and sweep of 
logic, and contagion of intense feeling, is the sense of a 
tide of power swelling from an unknown sea.” 

All men, at some time, are conscious of that ‘Hide of 
power and wfiien in noiseless majesty^ it sweeps 
either over the Apostle Peter’s or Andy Macdonald’s 
congregation, an internal transformation occurs, and an 
external display is made of new character. 

This is the w^ork of the supernatural — the very Holy 
Spirit — God; and the period of His culminating force is 
revival. Is it understood? We accept the fact. A wick- 
ed man stands in moral beauty before men, and adores 
the Invisible, as if wfith open eyes he saw Him. This 
is not an accident any more than is a rose, a star, cathe- 
dral, continent, or God ! 

A few years after Andy preached his great sermon on 
infidelity, grand results came. From the trial of those days 
he went on doubly armed — convinced that the first 
intrenchments w^ere taken, and that the citadel could be. 
Often had he read about “ Pentecost,” and contemplated 
Peter the preacher and his theme, until his soul Avas 
all on fire, and then he believed in great things for 


REVIVAL AT BASKING SHORE.’ 


Basking Shore.” His mind was progressing rapidly in 
this direction. While in the University he had witnessed, 
for the first time in his life, a modern revival, and dis- 
liked the measitres — and was troubled by his dislike. 
But he had been studying; and the more he studied 
truth and men, and the record God hath made, both 
in the Old Testament and the New, with respect to them, 
the more he saw the necessity of tremendous upheav- 
ings — arousings — by bold charges of sin and earnest 
declarations of mercy, and heartily accepted the “ revi- 
val ” idea. But he said, Let each pastor be his own 
evangelist.” 

The ‘‘ revival” came, and the whole region was 
profoundly moved. The blacksmith stood by his anvil, 
and hammered the red-hot iron into a pruning-hook, 
when he intended a horseshoe ; laid it aside — for he 
could see no longer — kneeled down, and, with his head 
resting on the anvil-block, yielded heart and hammer 
and anvil to Jesus Christ. And when Betsey saw him 
coming up the path to the cottage, and saw his face 
streaked with the beauty tears had made, she knew 
where he had been, and Whom he had found; for she 
too that morning had found the Lord. 

I'here were great scenes in the thronged church. 
One night, when "grace abounded, Mr. Flint tremblingly 
arose and said, with a broken voice, ‘‘ I confess before 
God and you. Elder, and the people, the wrong I did. 
I desarv’d the exclusion, and wuss. Guess I wa’n’t con- 
varted till this arternoon, while I was a pray’n’ in the 


192 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


south barn. Take me back, if ye kin, brothers ; and if 
ye can’t, I mean to live among ye, and help ye all 
the same.” 

Andy went over to him and gave him his hand. 
Stryker sobbed aloud, and poor Mrs. Tinder rose, cried, 
and sat down. 

“You are all forgiven j” said Macdonald. 

The old “ Wagon Party” rode back humbly into 
the fellowship of the church, and until they died were 
true friends of the “ Elder” and the cause. 

Two years after these and other wonders were seen, 
Berkley met Macdonald and said, “ Andy, were the re- 
sults of the great ‘ revival ’ satisfactory ?’^ 

“ Strikingly so,” replied Andy. “ Some chaff there 
was, but much precious wheat; and these are my ag- 
gressive people to-day — I can hardly hold them in.” 

“ Glad to hear it ; what do you think of traveling 
evangelists ?” 

“ They were not necessary to me, but I honor 
them — those of the true order.” 

“Is there another order ?” 

“Some have more boldness than wisdom, and leave 

i 

some things unsettled, which were settled. But, Sam, I do 
not wish to judge too severely, and will say with a wiser 
one than I, ‘ would God that all the Lord’s people were 
prophets.’ By the way, how are you getting on at 
‘ Burning Bush ?’ ” 

“ How do I appear to you, Andy ?” 

“ Never more strong and glad.” 

“ So is it, Andy, at ‘ Burning Bush.’ ” 


CHAPTER XLII. 


A LONG OR A SHORT PASTORATL. 

O NE MONDAY MORNING of a pleasant sum- 
mer’s day, Sam Berkley mounted his horse and 
drove off in the direction of Basking Shore,” to see 
his good and genial friend, Andy Macdonald. He had 
gone through Sunday’s work with great strength and 
joy, and not one thing had occurred to disturb his 
peace. He had held and moved his large congre- 
gation as only masters do, and saw, with gratitude, im- 
mediate good results. Reaching the top of a hill, com- 
manding a broad outlook of the surrounding xountry, 
he stopped and drank in the charming scene. Natural- 
ly enough his eye rested on the Holy House,” the 
scene of his victories as a preacher. Sighting his home 
where his wife and rosy, happy children were, he 
looked up into the deep blue sky and said, ‘‘Shep- 
herd of Israel, I thank Thee for them! Keep them for 
Thyself and me.” 

House after house in the village suggested pleas- 
ant thoughts, as did also many farm-houses, scattered 
along the valley road and on the hill-sides, where he, 
9 


194 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

as pastor, had carried good -cheer,” and from which he 
had received nothing but kindness. Whatever there was 
in any degree painful, fled before thQ abundant joy then 
sweeping through his soul, wave after wave. 

Suddenly a question leaped up in his mind — a ques- 
tion which for the time troubled him. Boldly it came, 
but from whence he knew not; for there had not been, 
so far as he knew, a ripple of discontent with him. 

“ How long shall I be the happy pastor here ?” was 
the sudden question. 

As along the country roads he drove, charmed by 
the rich beauty of plain, valley, hill, stream and sing- 
ing birds, the question recurred again ; and, although it 
came with less and less force, he could not drive it 
quite away, and resolved to talk with Macdonald about 
‘‘a long or a short pastorate.” Then he rested, and 
rode happily along to the gate of the parsonage in 
“ Basking Shore.” 

Dick Brunton had been sitting on the top of the 
^^big gate,” making observations on the farmers’ teams 
as they passed, and having seen Berkley coming down 
the “Mile Hill,” ran to the study and said, “Elder — 
Buck’l’s cum’n down ‘ Mile Hill !’ ” 

“Let him come, Dick — glad to hear it; you like 
Elder Berkley, don’t you?” 

“ What’ll I do with his nag, Elder ? — that’s what I 
wants to know.” 

“ Put him in the stall by ‘ Dandy,’ Dick ; and give 
him some oats by and by.” 


PASTORATES. 


195 


As Dick Brunton went down to the gate, he 
mumbled, Got to, ’spose. That nag ain’t no ’soc’ations 
f4r ‘ Dandy.’ He’s got crib-bites and spav’n. Sick nags 
ain’t no comp’ny fur ’spec’able bosses.” 

Berkley rode up to Dick and said, “ Well, Dick, 
how do you do ?” 

“ How’d do. Elder ? I’m a do’n’ all the time.” 
Then eyeing the horse, Dick said, Don’t no ole bones 
man cum ’round yer way ? Them bones ought’r be biled.’^ 
There, Dick,” said Berkley, much amused ; “ my 
horse can pass ‘ Dandy,’ any day.” 

“Yes, when he’s tied fast to a post! Try ye fur a 
race this arternoon. Elder ?” 

Dick led Berkley’s horse to the barn and tied him 
as far as possible away from ‘ Dandy ;’ and the happy 
minister was warmly greeted at the door of the parsonage. 

For an hour after dinner — which was then ready — 
these noble men held a rambling conversation about 
matters in their parishes, interjecting quaint stories, 
which each knew well how to tell, when Berkley 
said, “ Andy, I want to ask you a grave question.” 

“Not on Monday, Sam; not a grave one on Monday!” . 

“Yes, I will — I mustP 

“Well, say on; you may have your way now — I 
had mine once.” 

“Thank God, yes! Well, should a pastorate be long 
or shorty Andy ?” 

“That is a shorty but large question, Sam.” 

“ I know it, and I want it answered,” replied Berkley. 


196 SUNSHINE AMONG JHE CLOUDS. 

Why, Sam ?’^ 

“ Because it came to me before I was out of sight 
of ‘ Burning Bush.' " 

‘‘ That the only reason, Sam ?" said Andy, a little 
anxious. 

“The only one, so far as I now know, Andy." 

“ Well, Sam, I see that I am in for it, and will, with 
pleasure, give you my ideas about the matter; not as 
a finality but a ‘report in progress,' as we say. 

“In discussing this question, Sam, it is assumed 
that the man is a minister ‘ approved unto God — a 
workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly di- 
viding the word of truth' — carries the Lord’s honor in 
his heart, and reflects the same in his life; that he 
is more anxious to do his great duty than he is to 
succeed. I have an idea that none enter the sacred 
office with adequate views of the severity of its de- 
mands — from the beginning to the end — upon the 
physical, mental, moral and religious constitution. Nec- 
essarily, this is an after knowledge. No life is so 
taxed as the minister’s, inside or outside the profession- 
al limit; and these taxes must be paid, or he be sold 
out under the hammer. He who enters into a full 
ministry, enters into tribulation of divers sorts, from the 
world, himself, otherselves, and the devil. If experience 
discovers law, it seems that God intends that his ser- 
vant shall know all trials, from *the want of bread to 
the fulness of it, from flattery and abuse, from hard 
cold people and the disingenuous, from defeat and 


PASTORATES — SAMENESS. 


197 


apparent defeat, and even from the most brilliant vic- 
tory known — the saving of a man’s soul (saved but 
not sanctified); that he shall know Miow to be abased 
and how to abound — everywhere and in all things 
to be instructed, both to be full and to be hungry, 
both to abound and to suffer need, in order that he 
may do all things through Christ who strengtheneth.’” 

Andy paused a moment and then said, Sam, 
please state the question as it rose in your mind.” 

“ It came to me,” replied Berkley, in this form : 
whether, taking every interest — private and public — 
into the account, it is better for such a minister as 
you described, to hold a long or a short pastorate ; 
whether the advantages which accrue to the cause of 
God — to which he is subordinate in every sense — are 
beyond the disadvantages which obtain in a long pas- 
torate ?” 

‘‘Thank you, Sam; your question is well stated; and, 
in the first place, I will speak of two disadvantages I have 
observed, one of which is Samefiess. 

Sameness of a certain kind, in different degrees, inevitably 
waits upon a long pastorate. Ministers will surely follow 
their cue, as a rudder follows its ship; that is to say, 
they will follow the natural order of their intellectual and 
emotional nature. John and Peter and Paul did. One 
is logical, and so is his preaching. He will prove things. 
He must prove ‘the existence of God,’ when the sunbeam 
that shoots through the window down on the Bible, proved 
a God long before he was born. He prays and sings 


198 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

and visits logically. He is in danger of becoming a per- 
fect machine, but without stimulation. Another is prac- 
tical, and deals largely with the facts of everyday life. He 
spends no time in theorizing over the fall of Adam; but, 
blessed man, he runs all the while from rich supplies of 
grace to sore and crying need. Yet another is imagina- 
tive, and breaks restraint and penetrates far (sometimes 
beyond common sense), and turns all lines of truth, in all 
departments, and all refrains of sorrow, and all burning 
wonders, into the great work of his life. He finds ‘ God 
in everything.’ 

‘‘ Each man preaches Jesus, but preaches Him after 
the peculiarity of his own organization. These peculiari- 
ties abound, and God’s wisdom is seen. There is love 
in the arrangement. Vast multitudes are to be reached 
and a great variety of ability is demanded. Hence 
the wisdom in difference of gifts, and marked peculiarity 
in different men. 

“ But sameness is the da7iger of these differences. 
Each man’s mental gift is his capital, and largely di- 
rects his influence. He must use it, because it is all 
he has. That, or plagiarism, is inevitable. His knowl- 
edge and disposition of to-day constitutes his power 
for to-day, and his most prominent eccentricity is what 
pleases or angers the people. He cannot be other than 
he is; and this, be it what it may, is his sa77ieness ; 
and during the years of his pastorate, people become 
thoroughly familiar with his disposition, logic and illus- 
tration. 


PASTOI'IATES PREJUDICE. 


199 


the other hand, nothing is so sure as that men 
will tire — will seek what is new. Do they not rush to 
the last new settlement in every city and village ? Mr. A. 
is the most popular (what is that?) man to-day; to- 
morrow Mr. B. holds that envied position, and the seek- 
ers of the new pass Mr. A.’s and crowd Mr. B’s. chapel, 
although Mr. A. is the safer man. Sameness in manner 
and style as to phrases and pet words, and arrangement 
of ideas, and of all mental and emotional expression; 
sameness in dress and the way he wears it, and the 
way he uses the old sermon (providentially), is the disad- 
vantage of the long pastorate. 

“A change would be a real relief, and for a time 
increased power. There would be no change in hhn^ 
but he would be for a change to others. What was 
held to be wearisome by the old friends and hated by 
the old enemies, is thought to be fresh by the new 
folks who, as yet, are neither friends nor enemies. 
When the lines are sharply drawn, and he is digested 
and familiarized, the old disadvantage re-appears to tor- 
ment; and the ‘minister, if he is not equal to the dis- 
couragement, offers his resignation (suggested by some 
very dear friend — ‘ I am your friend^ you know’) — and 
goes on his sorrowful way one church nearer heaven. 

^‘Another disadvantage, Sam, is prejudice^ and quiet 
or open opposition. 

‘‘A vigorous, honest ministry excites prejudice, and 
organizes opposition. In the course of a long pastor- 
ate, occasions for discipline arise, and differences of 


200 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


opinion exist respecting measures and men. Uncon- 
sciously is the pastor drawn into the heated discussion 
‘whether bolted or unbolted flour is better for health?^ 
Thus of trivial matters, oftener than of important, is 
ill-will born against the pastor, which destroys his in- 
fluence in certain quarters. The longer the pastorate, 
unless there is much intuitive or acquired knowledge 
of men, the thicker and thornier will grow these pre- 
judices, and the more restricted the minister’s power. 
Well would it be for us all, could we ever remember, 

“‘Men must be taught as if you taught them not, 

And things unknown proposed as things forgot,* 

“ Nobody can pound down prejudices. An atmos- 
phere must be created in which they will wither away. 
The brazen sun-flower does not load the summer air 
with fragrance, but the little violet, unseen by the passer- 
by. Let prejudice be spirited away, and opposition un- 
dermined by love, in order that the pastorate may not be 
too short.” 

Andy paused a moment, and Berkley said, “True, 
every word! Tell me now the advafitages^ as they oc- 
cur to you.” 

“ Long pastorates,” pontinued Andy, “ have advan- 
tages, and the first is to the minister. He must study 
and think incessantly — hold attention, or let go the 
pastorate — grow or go. Rightly or wrongly, some have 
flung away his first thoughts, and will not go a block 
to hear them again. There is a just demand for ver- 


ADVANTAGES OF LONG PASTORATES, 


201 


satility, that all the lean sides of men may grow fat. 
That demand can be satisfied only by large, discrimin- 
ating and accurate knowledge of revealed and other 
truth — truth in its essence and its bearings; tlie truth 
of God in nature, history, providence and grace, as it 
affects men in all their interests for the whole of life, 
in all conditions ; and as well for this world as for the 
world to come. A stern necessity is laid upon our 
minister to be doctrinal and practical, versatile in thought 
and illustration, ever exhausting yet never exhausted, 
in order that he may make up for the disadvantage 
of the sameness that has been mentioned, and surprise 
away the prejudices of those whose souls he would 
feed, and so bring them into the ranks of those who 
take up and spread the influence of his ministrations. 

‘^Xhis work must be done for God’s people. Be- 
yond these the field of need is broad. All around are 
minds in every stage of dissent and of morals; minds 
inflated with conceit; minds hard and cold as granite; 
minds skeptical and illogical — knowing not that they 
are simply weak; minds whose crude opinions are to 
them as eternal principles — always dissenting, but who 
yet hang about the church of God because, after all, 
they are uncertain, and are waiting to see what will 
turn up; which something, they say, is sure to be ac- 
cording to fore-ordination. 

Young minds, also, must be met patiently; enter- 
tained, attracted — by invisible strength and helpfulness and 
brightness — and unconsciously led to Him who, with 
9 * 


202 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


grace and wisdom, baffled the doctors in the Temple, 
wore the ‘purple’ of disdain, and suffered death for them. 

“Without further classification of conditions and ages, 
a necessity is laid upon our minister to meet measurably 
well these varied needs ; and so he must gain in 
depth and strength ; must search his heart and know 
himself, and know God in Christ, in law and love; 
or feel both himself and his church losing power and 
position in the community. Suppose now, at the critical 
hour of personal and church fortunes, he leaves! Will 
not he be a loser? Will not the church be a loser? 
He lays aside a great task, worthy of a man’s best 
exertion. In his new field, he will use old productions, 
and stop growing at the old rate. It is impossible 
to keep away from the ‘barrel’ out of which the unction 
long since departed; because there never was a man — 
minister or other — who had not laziness enough at times 
to feel very comfortable. How providential then the poor 
sermons 1 — the best are preached. 

“ I think therefore that, intellectually and spiritually, 
our minister — tried as no other man ever was tried — 
will be stronger as the years go by, grinding God’s corn 
in the old mill, than he will in a new one, although 
he may be useful and happy in the new. Faithfulness 
is the crown.” 

“Good! Good!” said Berkley. Let me ask you now, 
Andy, whether in your opinion a long pastorate is not 
a great advantage to the minister’s family 

“ It is,” replied Andy. “ Every minister ought to 


DISADVANTAGES OF SHORT PASTORATES. 


203 


have a wife ; and generally has one of the best of the 
earth — worthy of him, and sometimes more so. If he 
has a wife, he ought to have children, and generally 
has less or more. He owes fnore to God’s church, but 
much to his wife and children. He cannot do as much 
for them by frequent changes as in a permanent home. 
A man was asked where he was born and brought 
up. He replied, ‘ I don’t know. I have no native place ; 
my father was a minister, and always on the go.’ A 
great deal of life’s sweet power and joy secrete in the 
character of the child who lives to grow up where he' 
was born. It is ‘a thing of beauty and a joy forever.’ 
The duties of manhood may call him away from the 
place forever, but the old home-angels will cheer him 
on his way to the new home above. Unsettled con- 
dition is a misfortune ; a grief to the wife and a dam- 
age to the children. This, with many other drawbacks, 
a long pastorate avoids.” 

“ But the cause of God comes first, carries all other 
precious interests with it, and the chief advantage of a 
long pastorate accrues to it ?” 

“ Personal considerations of course must not weigh 
as against the cause of God. God’s will must be 
done — that is another matter — but we may assert pos- 
itively that frequent changes of pastors are bad for the 
church. There is no time to develop latent forces and 
utilize them; no time to remove hinderances to growth, 
and neutralize separating influences; no time to train the 
converts gained in the freshness of his settlement. The 


204 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


church is demoralized. It calls hastily, knowing that it 
can as hastily send away. It does not really expect to 
keep its pastor long. The tender and sacred relation, with 
all its joys and sorrows, sinks down to a commerdal bar- 
gain. Like a servant on a farm, he is hired for one year, 
or for harvest-time. It tends to make the church crueL 
It breaks the influence which a good man, though' not a 
great preacher, was sending out in living rills all through 
the desert waste, and it breaks the continuity of those 
silent spiritual forces by which alone a church becomes 
a real power in a place. 

‘‘ When the church ought to be in the van of the 
fight against the devil, giving him his hardest blows, 
and straining every nerve to glorify Jesus, she is but 
a poor critical society, criticising candidates for a whole 
dreary year. The thing is wholly abominable — cruel to 
the good men she invites to supply, disgraceful to her- 
self, and a wrong to the Saviour. This a long and 
faithful pastorate avoids. It has the advantage of sfa- 
bility. Stability is power. The position the church sus- 
tains on disputed points, either of doctrine or polity, 
has long since been defined and published. Every 
creature on the earth and under the earth knows where 
the church stands. No time is lost in reconsiderations. 
She has her tried and wise precedents as to discipline — 
pastor and people are trained into unity which, if it be of 
the truth, breaks the force of the disturber who thinks 
himself wiser than Paul.” 


PASTORATES — INDOCTRINATION. 


205 


“How about indoctrination^ Andy?” said Sam. “ I think 
there is the great gain and source of power.” 

“You are right, Sam. A long pastorate only can 
thoroughly indoctrinate; and no church can long wield 
much power, unless established in the doctrines of grace. 
Creeds are dry bones, and rattle badly enough when un- 
fleshed ; but creeds are necessary to life, as there is no visible 
spirit without body. But indoctrination cannot be done 
in two or three years. It requires ti?ne. It must be done 
in small doses — by a doctrinal atmosphere, by unconscious 
processes of thought — until the believer can intelligently 
define his position. The greatest men die without explor- 
ing all the wonders of the word of the Apostle, ‘By grace 
ye are saved.’ How continually, then, must a believer be 
under the steady and clear teaching of the minister whom 
he loves, in order that he may be established in word 
and doctrine ! 

“ Another advantage of a long pastorate is found in 
a minute knowledge of the trials of individuals. The 
stranger wonders where the preacher’s power is! Many 
obscure weary and saved ones can tell him. The 
noble-hearted pastor looks into the faces of youths whom 
he knew when children, whom he won to Christ, and 
of many united by him in holy marriage. He is 
bound to the people by a thousand tender ties, knotted 
in seasons of common and unusual trial. The young 
he knows by name^ and the aged he knows — to each 
he is a personal friend. Rich and poor love him, for 
he has loved and helped them all. This knowledge 


2o6 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


will make up for some deficiencies in popular manners — 
in that nervous, dramatic style said to be captivating, 
and in that humor which ingratiates your favor. 

‘‘So I think that no man can so well bear the 
burdens of a large church, as can he who has grown 
up with it, and is a part of its growth. The ten 
thousand delicate nerves which shoot through the body 
of a church all range within his conscious or uncon- 
scious sympathy, and, like a skillful player on the harp, 
he sends along these the alarm, or the note of joy, or 
of divine solace. A long pastorate extends the influence 
of his church beyond the limit of its membership. 

“When the minister is new, new faces are seen in 
his audience. The superficial open their mouths and 

rub their hands and say, ‘Did you ever!’ ‘I tell you 
he’s smart ! ’ ^ Hit the nail on the head this time ! ’ 
Who were those new faces? Members of other churches. 
In a few weeks they return to their old retreats. 

The influence of the church is not spread out, and 
the enlarged congregation is delusive. ‘ Vanity of vani- 
ties, saith the preacher.’ How can the tide now be 

made to turn, and substantial enlargement be secured ? — 
Only by the most persistent and loving work among 
all classes and conditions — by sermons and work 
which touch the hearty and help the helpers. When 
the minister makes himself felt as a friend of learn- 
ing and of the needy, his support will be asked in 
favor of the educational and benevolent institutions of 
the town. His time has then come. People will see 


LONG pastorates; strong churches. 


207 


that his heart is big and warm and progressive, and 
many will say, ‘ I like his spirit, and will hear him 
preach.’ ” 

If there is any rule, what is it, Andy ?” said Sam. 

The rule is : Long pastorates ; strong churches. There 
are exceptions. There are churches neither weak nor 
strong, which would not exist to-day, had there not been 
a long pastorate; but, as a general principle, and applied 
to large and growing towns, a long pastorate is the high- 
est wisdom.” 

‘‘In every city and large town in my dear old Scot- 
land, and in my noble adopted land, churches have gained 
commanding positions, simply by the protracted, able and 
loving labors of one man.” 

“ But do not think, Sam, that I am impugning the 
wisdom of noble men who have made, and are now 
making changes. There is no nobler manhood on which 
the sun bursts, or the clouds shadow, than that which 
to-day lifts up the Cross for the saving of a dying 
world. I am speaking of the principle of the matter. 
Ministers and churches must lean towards longer pastor- 
ates, and not towards shorter. To hire every year is an 
evil. Still, I would have changes ; but have them in 
early life. You can transplant an oak sapling, and 
considerable of a tree, if you cut in the branches. 
Let the young minister move neither for salary nor 
fini^ed work, but to find a good standing-place for a 
grand life-work. Then, I say. Stick I — meet the diffi- 
culties, and conquer them. A ‘loud’ call accepted hath 


2o8 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


often been a fatal one. God put him in his place, and 
that is enough. Will he leave the conditions which 
alone can develop all he is? He will still be useful, but 
not so grand as he might have been, and will regret, 
when too late, that he ever left them. 

“ Men are alike outside and inside, and man is a' 
difficulty everywhere — hence it is often better to en- 
dure him whom one knows, than fly to others we know 
not. God sends His minister to talk to all men, and 
save men, and build up men in His truth, by His 
truth. When he has come to that point where men 
acknowledge that he is a man sent from God,” and 
has no selfish design upon them — that he is a brother 
with them in adversity, and cares for them in all their 
cares — his influence is immense, and his hold upon them 
as strong as bands of steel; and when, by real heroism, 
the clouds lift and prosperity shoots its sunbeams, the 
people will be gladder to share it with him, than with 
any man that lives.” 

‘‘How about the money question, Andy ?” said'Berkley. 

“ Here troubles crystallize, and separations begin. 
Avarice, dislike and inability, singly or together, em- 
barrass and remove the pastor. What is Christ’s teach- 
ing ? The twelve were not previously to provide gold, 
nor scrip, nor shoes, nor coats, nor staves. Their bread 
should come from the towns and houses they entered, 
‘for the workman is worthy of his meat.’ Jesus viewed 
the .condition of his ‘messengers’ all down the ages; 


PASTORATES THE MONEY QUESTION. 


209 


marked their dependence, and suggested their means of 
support. The house that is blessed, must support. If 
the house refuses either to receive the spiritual food, 
or give bread, the minister shall go. But here arises a 
difficulty. The house gladly receives the word, and is 
willing to furnish bread, but its ability is unequal to the 
necessity. 

What will Jesus say now? He says, ‘God cares 
for fowls, lilies and grass; will He not much more 
clothe you, O ye of little faith ?’ Now then, this be 
ing the fact, the matter of continuance turns upon ne- 
cessity. Ah ! necessity — what is it, and where its limit ? 
Is it inward, or outward ? Both. Inward, according 
to a man’s self-denial — outward, according to the price 
of potatoes and the number to be supported. Well, 
what shall the minister do ? Do his deepest conviction. 
Can he say, ‘ God put me here ’ ? Then lie must stand 
and God will take care of him. Then what shall he 
do? ‘Take no thought,’ but preach Jesus like Jesus, 
love like Jesus, and do like Jesus — dig — dig — dig; 
and he will open seams of clear silver in the souls dug 
out. 

“ God loves us : we will love Him, love and sympa- 
thize with each other, ‘bear each other’s burdens,’ pray 
for one another — make each brother’s path as smooth 
as we may — till we make our last settlement in the city 
of our love.” 

As Andy made this last remark, Berkley looked west- 



210 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


ward through the open window, upon the sky brilliant with 
the glories of sunset, and saw that some of the beams shot 
over the parsonage. “ Look, Andy,” he said ; look at that 
sky ! ” 

‘‘Unspeakably beautiful!” said Andy. “So may the 
close of our ministry be.” 

Berkley preached for Macdonald that night, to a 
crowded house. “A great cloud of witnesses” was his 
text ; and when, having shown how sinners were glorified, 
he graphically described the orders of “ patriarchs,” “ apos- 
tles,” “ martyrs,” and “ doers of the word,” heaven glis- 
tened in the tears of Andy and his people. 

Silver-haired John Lincoln met the ministers at the 
foot of the pulpit-stairs, took them by the hand, and 
said, “ It is bright and peaceful on the border.” 

In the morning, Dick Brunton brought Berkley’s 
horse to the door, and the minister mounted and rode 
away, followed by Dick on “ Dandy.” We will not 
say they racedj but Dick told the “ Elder,” on his return, 
that “ the ‘ nag ’ had more bottom nor he thought.” 

When Berkley again reached the top of old “ Look 
out Hill,” he felt that the question of a long pastorate 
was settled, from the fact that he had lost all care 
about to-morrow, and thought only about the duty of 
to-day. 

When he held in. his arms his fair boy, and received 
the warm welcome of wife and two loving daughters — 
Belle and Annie Berkley — he said, “God is good to 
His minister.” 


‘‘ STAND, THEREFORE.” 

“ Oh ! let us not sad thought allow ; 

The heat, the dust upon our brow. 

Signs of the contest we may wear — 

Yet thus we shall appear more fair 
In our Almighty Master s eye, 

Than if, in fear to lose the bloom, 

Or ruffle the soul’s lightest plume, 

We from the strife should fly. 

‘‘And for the rest, in weariness. 

In disappointment, or distress. 

When strength decays, or hope grows dim, 
We ever may recur to Him 
Who has the golden oil divine. 
Wherewith to feed our failing urns 
Who watches every lamp that burns 
Before His sacred shrine.” » 


CHAPTER XLIII. 


HARD TIMES IN THE PARSON*AGE. 

“ ^Tis true He now thy strength doth try, 

Like birds that teach their young to fly ; 

But when thou sinkest, He will bring 
Beneath thy fall His own great wing,” 



HE WHEAT had been winter-killed, the spring 


wet, * and the summer very dry; hence the far- 


mers were poor, and the store-keepers embarrassed. Be- 
sides local troubles, gilded baubles born of wild specu- 
lation exploded, and the whole land was filled with dis- 
may and financial ruin. Basking Shore” had enjoyed 
great prosperity, so-called; but men now said ironically, 
‘‘Pretty Basking this, on foreclosed mortgages and pro- 
tested notes!” 

Instantly the church felt the blow, as it always does — 
its benevolent streams dried up, and the pastor’s sala- 
ry was unpaid, to the humiliation of his friends. Should 
he leave them ? He had an invitation so to do, from a 
more wealthy church, and at a meeting when the de- 
ficiency was considered, a friend moved that the church 
property be mortgaged to meet it. The pastor thanked 
the mover and others friendly to the act, but firmly 
said, “No, no; it shall never be for 7)ier 


HARD TIMES IN THE PARSONAGE. 


213 


On reaching home Rachel, the; pastor’s wife, said, 
‘‘Andrew, I am real glad you took the stand you did 
to-night; but my heart is heavy. I do not see what we 
shall do.” 

“ The Lord sees, Rachel. He has promised us bread 
and water.” 

“ Bread and water, Andrew ! We have never lived 
on bread and water; and do you know, I brushed the 
barrel clean at yesterday’s baking?” 

“ Do you remember the Bible woman’s barrel of 
meal?” said Andy. 

“Yes! but winter is coming on, and in no way are 
we provided for against its frost and snow. I wish, 
like the birds, we might fly away to a warmer clime. 
I cannot mend our dear boy’s jacket any more, nor 
Lucy’s cloak; and if I could, they are too small for 
them. Here are their shoes; see how thin and worn 
they are ! I do not think we shall starve while good 
John Lincoln lives, but we need money I Look at your 
own threadbare coat 1” 

“ ‘ J ehovah- J ireh 1’ Rachel.” 

“Yes,” said Rachel, “but ‘God helps those who 
help themselves’ — you have a ‘call.’” 

“God helps those who serve Him day and night — 
never fear, Rachel,” said Macdonald. 

Rachel said no more, but tears trickled down on a 
patch she was putting into the knees of a little pair of 
trowsers, belonging to the precious boy asleep in the 
next' room. The minister went into his study — whose 


214 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE; CLOUDS. 


history none but God and the minister know — read the 
Bible — flung the call into the waste-basket, and said, 
‘^Father in heaven, thou art acquainted with me altogether! 
Between Thee and me there is a perfect understanding.’^ 

Rachel did not distrust the Lord, nor the hearts of 
the people, but the ‘‘call” had come in the hour of 
their need, and she thought a minister should consider 
himself and his family first, and avail himself of every 
opportunity to advance their interests. She had known 
pastors who had stood by their churches in “hard 
times” — had put health and money into stone walls, 
only to be abandoned when the “good times” came. 
It was her opinion that the call should be accepted 
promptly, as sent from God, whose servants they were. 
But God took these hearts into His keeping, and they 
slept as peacefully as tired children do in the cradle 
rocked by a mother’s hand. 

“ Rachel,” said Andy, the next morning, “ I was full 
of trouble as soon as I reopened the question of the 
call. Last night I flung the paper into the waste-bas- 
ket, and now I have a great peace.” 

“God bless you! Andrew,” said his wife; “whether 
I am right or wrong in thought^ in my heart I am 
Ruth, and am willing to glean I' 

As the minister entered his study that morning, he 
heard odd Dick Brunt on whistling and clapping his 
hands for joy; and going out, found Dick rolling a 
barrel of flour from the front of the house around to 
the kitchen door. Dick was called “half-witted,” but he 


HARD TIMES IN THE PARSONAGE. 


215 


felt the sorrows of the parsonage, which had been h:s 
''refuge” since Macdonald brought him sobbing from his 
"granny’s” grave. 

"Why, Dick, what are you doing?” said Andy. 

"Ain’t go’n to leave barr’l a flour out adoors, no 
how, such times as these. Elder !” 

"Where did you find it?” 

"By the big gate — bill stuck into the top — see!” 

Andy read, "For the pastor.” 

'‘Can you guess who brought it, Dick?” 

" Heer’d suth’n in the night— fear’d robbers, peep’d . 
out’r the winder and seed old Flint and Stryker roll’n 
this barr’l inside the big gate. Flint said, ' God bless ’em 1’ ” 

When Andy preached from the words, " Jehovah-Jireh,” 
on the following Sunday morning, Flint’s wife seemed 
about as happy as a woman could be; and when he 
came down the aisle, she took his hand and said, "El- 
der, you may remember what was said when my husband 
wronged you, and for which he is daily sorry. You 
said, ' If we take care of the Lord’s name. He will take 
care of us.’ ” 

The pastor’s study was on the ground floor, and a 
few nights after, quite late, he heard a gentle rap on 
the window. Surprised, he drew the curtain, opened 
the window, and saw standing there a tall, gray-haired 
man, one of the leading skeptics who had given him 
so much trouble. 

"Elder!” said the old man, "can I have your con- 
fidence ?” 


2i6 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘‘Certainly, if it is right,” Andy replied. 

“Take this gold eagle, sir. You saved my son! It 
should be more, but I am poor, through my crazy 
speculations. I don’t believe in your cJmrxh^ hardly in 
your God — but I believe in you! Glad we didn’t suc- 
ceed in driving you out of town. Good night, sir. This 
is confidential.” 

“ Good night, sir, and many a good day to you, 
Mr. Warren. Allow me to say, ‘ what is good for your 
boy is also good for you!'' 

Warren turned away, and as he was going down the 
path, Andy heard him say to himself, “ It might be 
true — it might be true !” 

In a beautiful suburb of the city of New York dwelt 
at this time a wealthy Christian merchant and his family. 
He had known, in boyhood, youth, and early manhood, 
the sorrows of poverty, and now, in his prosperity, he 
kept his heart warm towards those who suffer. One 
day, a little before Christmas, he came home from his 
business, weary but happy — for all the way home he 
had been devising plans to make many other people 
happy. Supper over, the family repaired to the cosy 
sitting-room. Rich pictures hung on the walls; books, 
pamphlets and papers covered the table; and the child- 
ren were in for a jolly romp. It was a delightful home, 
and the evening passed pleasantly away. The Bible was 
then read, thanksgiving offered, and the darlings of home 
were taken to their beds. Still the merchant sat before 
the fire, in happy but thoughtful mood. 


HARD TIMES IN THE TARSONAGE. 


217 


“ My wife,” he said, at length. 

‘‘ What is it, Edward ?” 

“You have heard me speak of Andy Macdonald — a 
college friend.” 

“ Yes ! Elas he been at the store to-day, begging money 
for his church, in danger of being sold to the Catholics?” 
replied the lady, smiling. 

“ No, wife, no ! but he is having hard times ^ through 
the poverty of his people. A merchant from his town 
told me so to-day. Andy Macdonald was the grandest 
man in college.” 

“ Pardon my hasty remark, Edward.” 

“Yesterday,” continued the merchant, “I made an 
exceedingly profitable transaction, and, with your consent, 
I shall share the profit with my old friend.” 

“ Certainly, yes. With all my heart, yes,” said the 
wife. 

On Christmas-Eve, Andy Macdonald took from the post- 

office a letter inclosing a check for dollars, signed 

Edward . Andy drew the money, and handed it to 

Rachel. 

Bob wrote: 

Dear Andy — I wish to share my first-fruits with the 
best brother in all the world. Accept fifty dollars from 

Brother Bob. 

Tom Dalton wrote: 

Adopted Brother Andy — Under the pile of old 
ship-lumber in Glasgow, you, Bob and I, became brothers. 
Through a chink, I heard Bob sob and pray, and you 
talk about your dead mother and God ; and then I 
wondered whether there might not be a God for poor 


2I<> SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

hoys / Accept tv/enty dollars from a small store laid by 
for otir rainy day. Tom Dalton. 

‘‘ Rachel/’ said Andy, I think the sun has come out.” 

There was a gentle rain. 

Good times did come, and the Basking Shore” Church 
grew in wealth, and became better able to support their 
pastor than the church v/hich sent the troublesome ‘teall.” 

*‘ Straight is the line of duty. 

Curved is the line of beauty ; 

Follow the first, and you shall see 
The second always following thee.” 

How that increased support was secured, will now be 
told. When the depression of the ‘‘hard times” passed 
away, one and another said, in a quiet way, “ Some- 
thing more should be done for the man who so nobly 
stood by us during the dark days.” 

John Lincoln was glad to see the feeling, and asked 
his brother deacon, Silas Knowlton, and the Trustees, 
to meet him at his house for a little consultation. 
This band of good, brave men met, and, after cordial 
greetings, Lincoln called the meeting to order, and all 
reverently bowed while Silas Knowlton led them in 
prayer, which was tender and simple ; and when he 
prayed for his pastor, his heart mastered, and he said 
“ Amen” as best he could. 

John Lincoln was not an imposing man in appear- 
ance. He was rather undersized, pale and thin, by long 
years of bodily suffering. The wonder of all was that he 
had lived so long. But he was in every quality strong 


HARD TIMES IN THE PARSONAGE. 


219 


and refined — a genuine Christian gentleman. Slowly he 
made up his mind, and firmly he held to what was 
principle ; and yet such was his respect for the opinions 
of others, that those with whom he differed respected 
him as much as those with whom he agreed. Everybody 
knew that John Lincoln was “behind the cross.” Many 
a five dollar bill was left in the palm of the poorly- 
paid minister. • Deacon Silas Knowlton — originally from 
Vermont — was an intelligent, good man, who studied 
for things that make peace, and cheerfully assisted in 
any plan that would help the cause. “ Stand by your 
guns,” he would often say; “but the ugly devil is the 
only person with whom we can afford to quarrel.” 

There were five Trustees, and James Hamilton was 
president of the Board. Hamilton was a thoroughly 
good business man. In early life he had struggled 
hard with poverty and lack of information; but his fac- 
ulty of observation, and frank, enterprising spirit, had 
secured for him considerable knowledge and success as 
a pioneer merchant. He had come out of the “hard 
times” sound and honest. Hamilton was devoted to 
Macdonald. 

Henry Jacobs was treasurer. He was a careful, exact 
man — one who always under-estimated his abilities, and 
much given to “ declining” when elected to fill an office^ 
but always honoring it when he accepted. Had he 
suddenly died, his accounts would have been found 
orderly and clear. 

A third Trustee was Jotham Beam. He was the 


220 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


opposite of Jacobs in temperament. Beam was the black- 
smith of the place, and considerable of a politician. 
Many were the arguments held by him with ^ his cus- 
tomers, in the shop, on the Tariff” and Internal Im- 
provement” questions, which in homely but strong lan- 
guage he advocated. “ Principles, and not men,” was 
his political motto; and he found, to his chagrin, that 
‘‘men” often sold out his “principles.” Andy saw that 
Beam would make a vigorous trustee, while he failed 
# in some other matters; that his heart was brave and 
honest enough to be sorry when he had been sharp and 
blunt, which was true. Beam made a good beam in 
Andy’s house. 

Richard Hoyt was an excellent, but eccentric man. 
He was troubled with jealousy; knew it, and prayed his 
quarrels down. Richard rode hobbies, but changed them 
so often that people humorously asked, “What next?” 
But while under full headway on any one, he could not 
be dismounted, and was allowed to run his hobby down 
before anybody touched him. Queer Richard, however, 
was useful, in that he had, somehow or other, influence 
with some other queer people. No one doubted his 
love for the cause, and when he looked sour at Andy, 
all knew that no one must speak a word against his 
pastor, 

James Tomkins, the fifth Trustee, was the genial ge- 
nius of the Board. Left alone, nothing would have been 
done, for he hated care. He opposed neither body nor 
thing, and when asked his opinion, invariably answered. 


HARD TIMES IN THE PARSONAGE. 


221 


‘‘Just as Lincoln thinks; he knows more than all of us 
together.” 

After Silas Knowlton prayed, Lincoln said, “ Gentle- 
men, no words need be wasted; our pastor ought to 
have more salary.” 

Amen r' said they all. 

“ Then,” said Lincoln, “ there are but two questions 
to be considered. How much shall the increase be ? 
And how shall it be raised ?” 

“ I move that our pastor’s salary be increased five 
hundred dollars,” said Silas Knowlton. 

“ I second the motion,” said funny and liberal James 
Tomkins. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Lincoln, “ remarks -are now in 
order.” 

“ Can’t be raised — I know it,” said Richard Hoyt. 

“Yes, it can, Dick,” said Tomkins. 

“How, James?” said Hoyt sharply. 

“Why raise it five hundred, and trusts 

“I am willing, but afraid,” said Jacobs. 

“ Let’s try^' said Beam, the blacksmith, bringing his 
heavy hand down on the table. I used to spend one- 
fifth of that for rum^ and the devil let me off easy. The 
devil’s boys serve their masters better than the Lord’s 
boys do Him. How the devil duped me ! It makes 
me mad now.” 

“True, Beam,”, said Hamilton, “that’s honest.” 

“ My anvil and sledge-hammer went with my heart to 
Jesus, when He met me that day in the shop. Betsey 
feels as I do.” 


222 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘‘I’ll get' one-fifth of the amount out of Job Clark, 
the miller, and his boys,” said Hamilton. 

The salary was raised five hundred dollars, and John 
Lincoln’s lip quivered. 

“ How now shall this sum be raised ?” said Lincoln. 

The discussion of this question was long, earnest, and 
able. Every plan that had ever been used was consid- 
ered. At twelve o’clock, midnight, John Lincoln’s prop- 
osition was adopted — which was the etivelope plan — that 
each member and friend of the cause and the pastor 
should give some sum, however small, every week, ac- 
cording to ability. 

The plan was adopted by the church, and put into 
operation immediately. The result was a great surprise. 
Never before had the treasury been so filled, and Henry 
Jacobs said “ that he never saw figures laugh so heart- 
ily before.” 

Andy was glad, and his sermons were better. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 


SIGHT - SEEING. 


“ The harp at Nature’s advent strung, 

Has never ceased to play ; 

The song the stars, of heaven sung, 

Has never died away.” 

# 

T he preacher must know God, men, and na- 
ture. He inusti Rooted in God, he must walk 
out to the ends of the branches, be as correct as fig- 
ures, and as varied as a poet. AVherever there is a 
truth, he must go and get it, and stand where he can 
gain broader views. People are delighted, Avhen led to 
see clearly things half seen, and hear expressed their own 
unworded thoughts. Nothing delights them more. He 
only can be fresh who gets fresh views of nature, man, 
and God’s word; and inspire only when inspired him- 
self. Sermons must warble with the song of birds, sigh 
with the sea, blossom ^Yith flowers, glow with the ‘^Burn- 
ing Bush,” and be as ‘^Elim’s wells.” Said a noble 
preacher, I resolved to spare no pains, nor toil, nor 
time, in careful preparation, in making my statements 
lucid, my descriptions graphic, my appeals pathetic, and 
in filling my discourses with what would strike and stick, ” 
His success was very great. Illustration is a power widi 


224 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


the people. We all like pictures, and Jesus used them, 
and the ‘‘common people heard Him gladly.” To be 
sure. He had vital and wonderful truths to illustrate, 
and His preachers have the same. It is right to let 
the truth have its own force and beauty, and wrong to 
hinder. The preacher must go and go among books, 
trees, rocks, rivers, and men. Study the cloud, the 
bright bow on its breast, and the town under it. Does 
he preach on the mountain? let him go down to and 
into the sea. Does he preach by the sea? let him 
fly to the hills. Change is reft, and suggestion begets 
originality. 

For a long while, Andy Macdonald had been feel- 
ing the need of rest, through change, and suggestion of 
fresh views. His active mind had exhausted his im- 
mediate surroundings, and he felt that he must see 
things beyo7id^ that he might “be enlarged.” Besides, he 
had overworked, and concluded to go to Europe as soon 
as the times improved - 7 - which came about, as narrated 
in the last chapter. Somehow, he hungered for Glasgow, 
as never before. He told Rachel his purpose, and she 
said, humorously, “ My throat feels sore, Andrew. Go, 
and go for me ; and I will visit old Stockbridge, where 
you tarried ‘ two days,^ once upon a time, you know.” 

“ Don’t like to leave you, Rachel. Very much I 
owe you,” said Andy. 

“Much more I owe you ; and we owe all to God, 
who has led us,” said Rachel. 

“Very true, Rachel; His ways are becoming more 


SIGHT-SEEING. 225 

and more wonderful to me. I am glad you think of 
going to Stockbridge. I shall not then be so anxious.” 

The pastor informed the church, and the church 
said, ‘‘Go; and your salary shall be continued.” 

He wrote to Bob, and Bob wrote back, “Come on 
to Buffalo. I’ll go with you, and pay expenses.” 
Royal Bob! he could do it now; for the “fifty dollars” 
of the “ hard times” had already come back with ten 
thousand. 

In due time, Andy went to Buffalo; and after- a 
delightful visit there with Tom Dalton, and Bob’s fami- 
ly, the brothers said “ good-by,” and took the cars for 
Albany. 

Once, on the way, there was a little pathos in Bob’s 
voice, when, looking out of the window, he said, 
“ Andy P’ 

“What is it. Bob?” said Andy. 

“There is the beaten ‘tow-path,’ and the ‘Day-boat 
Barn.’ Nobody ever knew how my boy’s heart flut- 
tered, and sank within me, when the dreary night came 
on. I tried to be brave and cheerful among the men 
and bantering boys, but all the time I was so home- 
sick — or brotJier-?>\Qk — and almost wanted to lie down 
and die, and go to be with mother above the inviting 
stars, But now I thank God for the ‘ tow-path,’ and it 
grows beautiful, associated with His purpose. Cannot you 
preach a ‘ tow-path’ sermon for canal boys ? It might 
do a world of good by its thoughts, in showing them 
that in the wide, rough world, God is their friend ; 

TO* 


226 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


and you might take for your illustration Andy and 
Bob Macdonald.” 

A good idea, Bob,” said Andy ; “ and if God per- 
mits me to return. I’ll write a book on the ‘ God of 
the Tow-path,’ for the boys on the Erie Canal.” 

At Albany they took the boat for New York, and 
as soon as they arrived in the city, purchased tickets 
for Glasgow. Having a day to spare, they visited some 
places of interest, and then, at Bob’s suggestion, went 
over to Joe Morgan’s to dine. Morgan had moved 
his quarters some blocks up the street, and a ware- 
house had been built on the old inn lot. They found 
Uncle Joe sitting in his old arm-chair, somewhat rheu- 
matic, but unchanged in heart and manners. 

How do you do, Mr. Morgan ?” asked Bob. 

Purty well, thank ye; who be ye?” 

Bob Macdonald, once from Glasgow ; don’t you re- 
member?” 

Bob Macdonald!” Morgan sharply eyed his visitor, 
and repeated the name slowly — ^‘Bob Macdonald? — 
’pears I know ye.” In a moment the dark eye twinkled, 
as a fair young face and bright honest eye came to 
the front in the old man’s memory. Clasping Bob’s 
hand in both of his, he said, My gracious ! ’tis Bob. 
Hev ye come back to grub ? I remember ! Went 
to Canedy on two shillen! Yes, yes, I recalls it. I 
sed ye’d be back. Been a long time a cornin’ tho’, 
hain’t ye. Bob? I’d a giv’n ten pounds to hed ye 
come brfck that day. Why didn’t ye cum? I hed 


SIGHT-SEEING. 


227 


’dopted ye! Well, can’t pass York, ’out callin’ on old 
Joe Morgan; glad o’ that. Jist in time,' gentlemen. 
God bless ye, why how stout ye be! Married, Bob?” 

“Yes,” said Bob, “and got a splendid wife.” 

“Sure now! How’s the wife and babies — all peace 
’ll quietness ? Why didn’t ye bring ’m ’long now ?” 

“Yes, Mr. Morgan, all well — bring them another time,” 
said Bob. 

“ See ye do, now,” said Morgan. “ Pard’n me. Who’s 
the gentleman along with ye ? Ain’t much on manners^ 
ye see, ’cord’n to rule.” 

“ My brother Andy, Mr. Morgan — a minister,” said 
Bob, introducing him. 

Morgan shook hands heartily with the minister, who 
already liked this jewel in the rough, and respectfully said, 
“Welcome, sir; b’leeve in domines what’s human, Hed 
one in the family wunce. Golly, how he made ’m 
shiver! He wan’t none o’ yer fussy, top-knot, peacock 
kind, but went fur ye blaz’n’ hot, ef ye carr’d eny 
sins about with ye worth notic’n’ ; and he’d cuss and 
cry over ye in the same breath, as if ye was his only 
child. Yes, he was a good ’un — straight as a tall pine 
in the mountains — traded boss’s honest, and paid his 
debts — no ‘skin-flint’ in his natur’. I ain’t much on 
piety and profession, but, domine. I’d a been a heap 
wuss, but fur a pray’r he made, a bilin’ over, in the 
old kitchen at hum, the night afore I was a com’n’ 
down to York, and the old man and woman o’ dear 
mem’ry said ^Amen' so it rings now.” 


2^8 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘‘ Beg yer pardon, gentlemen, hev ye grubb’d ? O’ 
course, no. There! Haggerty’s bang’n’ the gong. Toiler, 
bo — , gents, foller.” 

Morgan took his cane, led them into the dining- 
room in a proud sort of a way, introduced them to 
the boarders in a manner which implied, ‘‘You see 
the sort of company I keep, ladies and gentlemen I” 
placed Bob on his right hand, Andy on his left, and 
said, “Fall in, boys — take keer of yer stomachs, and 
yer stomachs ’ll take keer of you. To heft big loads, 
hand or brain, ye must take keer of ’m.” 

Af:er dinner, a free talk was held. Andy got the old 
man’s confidence, and brought his tears, as he heartily 
thanked him for his kindness shown to Bob, the run- 
away, and said, “ Whenever I can do anything for you, 
let me know, Mr. Morgan.” 

The brothers rose to go, and shook Morgan’s hand 
heartily, as they said “good-bye.” 

“ Good-bye 1 Heaven bless ye, good-bye,” said Uncle 
Joe warmly; “the latch-string hangs outside while old 
Joe Morgan hangs on inside, mind!” 

Sfepping up to Bob and pulling him one side, he 
whispered, “I say. Bob, ef your domine brother, Andy, 
should be in York, or enywheres nigh by, when old Joe 
kicks the bucket, es we’ve all got to do, I’d kinder 
like to hev ’m say suth’n out a that big heart of 
his’n — makes me think of dad’s domine to hum. — P’raps 
he’d come afore, and set my sails fur me ! Think he’d 
cum ? Wish I was a go’n now, as he’s here.” 


SIGHT-SEEING. 229 

In twenty days after this scene, the brothers were 
walking along the old streets of Glasgow. They sighed 
when they felt the great change which had taken 
place. Strangers occupied the shop, and Uncle John’s 
cottage ; and Willow Place” stood gloomy and deserted. 
The first thing they did was to seek for Jeanie Butler, 
who once made ready Willow Place” for their father 
and mother. They found her, and listened gratefully to 
her simple story of the charming virtues of Alice, her 
old mistress, until their own hearts were deeply moved 
by a richer view of a grand life that had made them, 
under God, what they were. Bob made Jeanie a pres- 
ent of more pounds sterling than she had ever had at 
one time in her life. This deeply affected Jeanie, and 
she said, “ I dinna want the siller, an I wuld na tak 
it, did ye think I served ye for it, when ye were tod- 
dlin’ bairnies. It’s verra kin’ o’ ye, but ye come o’ a 
guid breed, an ye canna help it — na, ye culdna help 
bein’ great men. I thank the Lord, He hae permitted 
his puir auld Jeanie a look intae yer bricht faces once 
mair. Noo I can dee happy.” 

The brothers having seen Jeanie, felt that nothing 
more held them in Glasgovg and so they hastened on 
to Edinburgh. We will stand at the gate while they 
enter the Burns homestead, and meet their sister Amy 
Burns Macdonald. Amy had received Andy’s letter, 
and was trembling in the spirit of joyful expectation ; 
and when their eyes met, their lips did too, and, as 
they looked and talked, there was a rustling and a 


230 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


beaming as of some one from heaven; and each knew 
then, as never before, the wealth of true brotherly and 
sisterly love. 

As was to be expected, they are now constantly 
together, learning each other, visiting all places of inter- 
est, and especially the most sacred spot in the city, 
the grave of Alice, the mother. One day Andy stole 
away alone to the spot, and wrote while there — 


“ I love thy God, my mother ; 
Thy loyal faith is mine. 

I bow upon thy sod, dear one, 

A pilgrim at His shrine. 

I lean against thy monument. 

And read thy precious name ; 
And glory in the memories 
That in my bosom flame. 

No ivy on yon holy wall 
Can thicker, greener be 
In Summer day or Autumn time, 
Than Andy’s love for thee.” 


The three made a hasty tour through Scotland, and 
then the brothers spent two months on the Continent. 
What they saw in France, Italy, and Germany, in 
palace, castle, prison, and homes of the peasantry — 
, what in city, mountain, and valley — has been often 
told, and will not be repeated here. They learned 
much, however, were satisfied, and, beginning to long 
for home, returned to Edinburgh, where they were made 
glad by Amy’s decision to lease the Burns homestead 
and accompany them to America. They soon sailed 


SIGHT-SEEING. 


for New York. During three days the weather was 
superb. The sun shone brightly, the fleecy clouds 
floated gently along and grew brilliant, as the king of 
the skies, with banners of light, passed away through 
the great western gate. The sea was tranquil, so that 
the passengers could sit on deck, and watch and talk. 
One sang. 


“ The sea ! the sea ! the open sea ; 

The blue, the fresh, the ever free; , 

Without a mark, without a bound, 

It runneth the earth’s wide regions round. 

If a storm should rise, and awake the deep. 

What matter ! what matter ! I can ride and sleep.'* 

On the afternoon of the fourth day out, the steamef 
ran into great fog-banks, so dense as to prevent sight 
beyond a ship’s length, or above the mast-head. Hour 
after hour, the perilous gloom continued, and, as the 
fog-whistle was blown constantly, the timid grew fever- 
ish, and the brave silent and thoughtful. .“Icebergs 
are near us,” said an old sailor, in reply to a question 
from Bob, “and we must feel our way.” 

Suddenly the steamer, with a stunning, grinding, 
crashing sound, collided with something at the bow. 
“An iceberg! Oh I an iceberg! God have mercy !” some 
cried. Andy rushed on deck, and to the bow of the 
ship, and saw that the steamer had run on the stern 
of a heavily laden bark. The darkness, crash and dread- 
ful uncertainty created a terrible sensation and panic. 


232 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Strong men trembled. Women and children screamed. 
Some fell on their knees and begged God to help. 
Others called for the captain, and the life-boats. Some 
drank deeply of wine, while others calmly stood still — 
as did Andy, Bob, and Amy — and waited to hear the 
frightful sound of^ in-rolling waters. Five minutes of the 
feeling of dying passed by, and Andy said, ‘‘ Thank God, 
we are safe!” 

The rigging and yards of the bark, and the forward 
yards of the steamer, were torn quite away. Immedi- 
ately, upon the orders of the -brave captain, an exam- 
ination was made, when, to the Joy of all, it was 
found that the hull was uninjured, and the good news 
were sounded among the passengers. The captain sang 
out to the captain of the bark that “ the hull of his 
ship was sound ; and that a boat was being lowered, 
to come to him.” Miraculously, the bark’s hull also 
was found to be uninjured, and the captain said that 
‘‘ he would need no help, and would sail on as soon 
as damages were repaired.” 

The man at the bark’s wheel, however, had his right 
arm badly bruised and broken, and as there was a 
surgeon on board the steamer and none on b;)ard the 
bark, he was brought back in the life-boat. 

The poor fellow was laid down on the cabin floor, 
suffering intensely, and bleeding profusely, but resolute 
and patient.- Andy volunteered to attend while the 
surgeon reset the bone and bandaged the wound, which 
was done in a most skillful manner. While the sailor 


SIGHT-SEETNG. 


233 


lay asleep under the influence of an opiate, Andy sharp- 
ly watched his face, and was sure that he had seen 
the man before ! 

-When the sailor awoke, he gazed wildly about, and 
asked, Where am I ?” 

Safe, if not sound,” said hjs nurse. 

“ I see. Am aboard the steamer. Terrible crash, 
sir; terrible,” said the sailor. 

‘‘Yes,” said Andy, “but it’s all over now. Please 
tell me your name, sailor.” 

“ Bill Perkins, please, sir. What may yours be ?” 

“ Andy Macdonald.” 

“ Of Glasgow, sir ?” 

“ Yes, when a boy,” said Andy. “ Do you know 
me?” 

“ Aye, years ago. Son of the ‘ ’at and fur dealer.’ 
I knows all about it. Know’d yer father. Ah ! I was 
a bad ’un then, sir! Know’d a secret about ’m, and 
got ’is money one night, when ‘ ’alf seas over,’ But I 
loves God now, sir; yes, I does. You see, my sainted 
mother came after me till I cried for God’s mercy, 
and I got it, sir! Got it one dark and stormy night, 
in the Mediterranean. Take my wallet out of the pocket. 
You’ll find a pound there. Take it to ’im, and tell ’im 
‘Bill Perkins ’ll send the rest, some day.’ 

“ Do you know where my father is now, sailor ?” 

“ He’s in Canady, sir. Went there with John Mac- 
cullum and his wife. John is a brave and good ’un, sir !” 

“ Well, Mr. Perkins, I am sorry about your broken 


234 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


arm, but glad over your better heart. My father shall 
get the money, and the grace of God also, I hope, 
which always makes an honest man.” 

While Andy still sat by the sailor, who soon fell 
asleep again, he said to himself, So ^ my father is in 
Canada, and Uncle JoIiq and Aunt Libby. What does 
it all mean ? I am sure that it all means God. I , * 
shall yet see wonders, and be glad. I know I shall ! 

‘ There is nothing too hard for God.’ ” 

Andy told Bob and Amy Bill Perkins’s story. 


CHAPTER XLV. 


IN THE WILDERNESS. 

M ACCULLUM left Macdonald and Uncle Matt in 
the log-house, and returned to Montreal, where 
he prospered exceedingly, promising to make a monthly 
visit. The “ Place” was situated in a bend of the great 
river, on high ground, and was very picturesque. The 
question Avas, What effect will this great change have 
on a mind of intense activity ?” Maccullum’s friend 
Paxton said, Either he will sink into sour dejection, 
and die ; or, seeing the fallacy of his life, reject it with 
contempt, rebuild in God, and spend his remaining years 
in gratitude and peace.” 

Pantheism is a lie; and yet has not Nature a subtle 
power, penetrating to the spirit ? May not a weary head 
rest on her bosom and find suggestions of better peace 
and splendor ? Nature is not God, yet her several forms 
of living beauty help the children of a false philosophy; and 
ever-recurring questions point toward an infinite Creator. 

Truly philosophers never find the Star of Bethlehem” 
among their bright and silent Avorlds in far-off Avays, yet 
the morning stars sing together,” the “ trees of the 
field clap their hands,” and the ^^everlasting doors are 


236 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


lifted up,” as the Christ comes to help Macdonald. 
The Spirit tarried with the world He made — from 
whom is He withheld ? Macdonald’s erratic mind 
faces Nature in her primitive wildness, grandeur, and 
restfulness — will it not do him good ? 

Maccullum came at the end of the month, and 
thought he saw the beginning of a better end. 

Weel, Uncle Matt,” said he, is Mr. Macdonald 
a’ richt ?” 

‘‘ Massa ’Donald say ‘he berry poor,’ Massa ’Cul- 
lum,” answered Uncle Matt. 

Maccullum saw that the black did not understand 
him, and said in plain English, as now he was able 
to do, “All right. I mean. Uncle Matt, is Mr. Macdon- 
ald well and happy?” 

“ Dunno ’bout dat ar’.” 

“ What’s the matter ?” 

“ Reek’ll he totes a big load.” 

“What load, pray, tell?” 

“Hisself/ Massa Cullum,” said Uncle Matt, with great 
emphasis. 

“ Does he talk much ?” 

“ Mos’ days he berry still ; odder days, he rambles 
roun’, dreams o’ nights, and calls ‘Alice! Alice! Alice!’ 
‘ Will’ Place,’ and sez ‘ dar am no God !’ Mighty sin- 
nah am Massa ’Donald. Sebben debbils got to run into 
de swine fo’ he hab his right min.’ Dey was a howl’n 
all las’ night, cl’ar troo to daybreak.” 

Rest, river, woods, squirrels, birds, skies, grand up- 


IN THE WILDERNESS. 


237 


lifting views, sense of past failures, and the fine spirit 
of Uncle Matt, were producing a marked effect on the 
thinking of Macdonald. Yielding to the bright sugges- 
tions of the pure things about him, and the mysteri- 
ous also, he caught dim glimpses of a world to which 
he was a stranger; and sometimes felt, as he looked at 
the silent stars, that only a thin partition stood be- 
tween him and untold wonders! But as often as he said 
‘‘ I will break through and see if I am proved all 
wrong,^' the deep current of a life of unbelief rolled 
madly against him, and bore him away, a helpless and 
sorrowful man. But this was better than before. The 
reactions towards the truth, by the truth, grew more 
frequent, and the miserable man began to welcome them 
as the voyager hails the sight of land, which he dim- 
ly sees through the fog with an eye-glass. Macdonald 
is unsettled — this is a gain. 

Maccullum brought fifty pounds down from an old 
debtor who, as soon as able, honored the claim by 
sending a draft; and this made Macdonald think better 
of me7i — another gain. 

Several days passed quietly by, after Maccullum re- 
turned to Montreal. Uncle Matt worked, in the gar- 
den, and was cheerful. Macdonald roamed the woods, 
watched river and sail, read Paine ” and Christ, was 
busy with new and strange thoughts, and, at length, 
grew restless, jealous, angry, ugly — became as a com- 
passless ship in a fog, in water too deep to anchor. 
In this desperate condition, he cried out — this strong 


238 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

man ; this bitter proud man — “ If there is a God, v/hy 
this torment of the damned?” and flung hot words at 
the nigger” — as he called him then — and his Christ. 

Uncle Matt reviled not again,” but went down 
before the Lord in prayer; and Macdonald heard him 
'say, O Lord, bless Massa ’Donald ! He totes a big 
load, and hab no peace. He tinks dar am nobody 
bigger’n ’isself Mighty Lord o’ Sab’oth, take hold on 
de top ob de mulbe’ry trees ! Shake 'm hard ! so dat 
he look up to see v/hat am the matter up dar. Bless- 
ed, mighty King, let the sinnah see ole Sin’i, and 
tremble, and cry to Thee like de shot deer in de woods, 
and trust in de bleed’n Lamb. Let ’m see dy glory, 
what brudder Moses, and de ’ciples seed in de ’flg’ration. 
Lord o’ mercy, he mos’ done gone. Save ’m ! save ’m ! 
and keep dis chile in dy pr’fections, dat he shine all roun’ 
Massa ’Donald like de sun ob hebben ; and when de fight 
am done, send de gold char’ot on de clouds dat fly fast, 
for dy servant in de wa’ten poster, fer de sake ob de 
Lord Jesus. Amen!” 

Macdonald was pleased with the earnestness and sin- 
cerity of the black,” and grew calm again, by' the in- 
fluence of the prayer, unconsciously. Soon afterwards 
he said, ‘‘Uncle Matt, do you believe in prayer?” 

“ Ebb’ry time, and no ’ceptions. 

“ Why ?” said Macdonald. 

“Can’t ’splain de deep t’ings, as Massa Fenton sez, 
but knows dat mos’ ebb’ry time de answer am fort’- 
com’n — ebb’ry time, somehow,” answered Uncle Matt. 


IN THE WILDERNESS. 


239 


But don’t you know Jesus Christ is only a man? 
said Macdonald, ironically. 

''Ye b’l’eve dat, Massa ’Donald? Nebber seed ’nud- 
der man. like bressed Jesus. He forgib my niquity, and 
’store salvation. No odder such.” 

" What do you mean by getting religion, Uncle Matt ?” 

"New heart, sah ! De stuny heart am took out; 
de heart ob flesh am put in, as ^Zekel sez.” 

" How did you feel. Uncle Matt, when you got re- 
ligion ? Let me know that.’ 

" Like de sunfish swim’n, in de v/ater when de sun 
shine. Like de birds in de morn’n’ — ’pears like I could 
jump ober de house-top, and sing all de time ‘glory, halle- 
lu;’ lub ebb’rybody ; lub Sam Jackson, full ob sebben 
debbles. He tole Massa Fenton dis chile steal chick’ns. 
A big brak lie ! Steal ’m ’isself. Tol ’m, ' I pray for m 
dat he ’spect ’isself’ ” 

" Then you have no trouble now ?” said Macdonald. 

" Heap ob trouble, Massa ’Donald, when de debble 
wrastle — sez he nebber quit dis darkey till de day ob 
judgment. Tink he leave us den. Heap ob trouble, 
big heap, ’bout Massa 'Donald —'cmt me!” 

Uncle Matt was afraid that he then went too far, and 
stepped back. 

"Why? Do I look as tho’ I was in need?" said 
Macdonald. "Needn’t be afra'd — talk on.” 

"You dunno de Lord; dunno de shadder ob de 
high rock in de we’ry Ian’ ; dunno de anchor ob de soul ; 
dunno Jesus !” said Uncle Matt, with great earnestness, 
encouraged by Macdonald’s word. 


240 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

It was not that Uncle Matt said anything new, but 
the spirit of this unlettered man deeply impressed the 
sceptic. He felt that God was a person, present, to ‘^the 
black.” In all his search in the region of superstition, 
he had not found the like. Not here, as there, did 
he see disordered imagination, or the sad credulity of 
gross ignorance. Uncle Matt had learned much at the 
feet of Dr. Fenton. Uncle Matt’s ideas were crude, and 
his expressions florid, but there was a delicacy of sen- 
timent, a love of truth, a purity of motive, a cheerful- 
ness of disposition, a joy in self-denial, a tender con- 
* science, entirely unexplained on any other theory than 
that — somewhere concealed in his moral nature — acted 
a principle, which to him was an established govern- 
ment with an invisible, but almighty King. He could 
not understand him, as he did not understand Alice 
Macdonald ; but were the gifted mistress of Willow 
Place” here, she would understand Uncle Matt; and 
Macdonald wondered whether it would be so. Then 
there came over him an utter blackness of darkness. 
Uncle Matt said his people down South would say, 
‘‘he’s com’n’ tru’ hell.” The storm which had been gath- 
ering for months, burst upon him with seemingly re- . 
morseless violence, and it raged until, peeled and broken, 
he ceased to call upon his gods. Recovering a little, 
he raved at the avenging elements ; dared them to crush 
him — as if they were alive. Then, livid with fear, cried 
for the pity he had denied. Still the divinely shotted 
storm beat upon him* until an utter chaos came of 


IN THE WILDERNESS. 


2M 

thought, opinion and feeling; and he sank down on the 
floor of the log-house, a heap of desolation and of agony. 

Uncle Matt had watched the struggle with singular 
satisfaction; prayed now, and then sang one of those 
refrains common among his people — 


“ Ef you want to see de debble run, 

Jes’ fire off de gospel gun.’’ 

Talking to himself, he said, Massa ’Donald met 
de Lord shur’ dis time. ’Spect de Lord on de top 
now. Nebber mo’ say ‘dar am no God.’ De Lord 
am master ob de sitiwation.” 

A low plaintive call came from the heap on the floor — 
Uncle Matt ! Uncle Matt !” 

‘‘The black” knew the decisive hour had come, went 
into the room, knelt down by the side of the sceptic 
and began to pray; and, as he prayed, his body swayed 
backward and forward like the tabernacle censer, while 
tears and drops of perspiration rolled down his cheeks. 

UNCLE MATT’S PRAYER. 

“O Lord, dis is yer ’our. Don’t let him git up till 
his soul am white as de snow. Save him. Lord ! now 
is de time; dis is yer ’our. Make him luv de Saviour 
right now ; dis is yer ’our. 

“ Massa ’Donald, guv yer heart to Jesus. He’s stand- 
in’ waitin^, hold’n’ out His hands. De Holy Sper’t is a 
movin’ on yer soul. Don’t drive him off. He nebber 
come back — nebber! nebber! Hole him fas’ now. O 


242 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Lord! hear de prayer ob dy poor servant. T’rash de 
mount’in wid him I Dou hast promised, and now, Lord, 
do it! Massa Jesus ! do it! Dis is yer ’our. I hab faith 
in Thee. I b’leve dou wilt save de soul ob dis sinnah. 
Do it. Lord, right now ! for de sake ob Jesus. Amen.’» 

Go now, Uncle Matt,” said Macdonald kindly; I 
want to be alone with God.” 

As ‘‘ the black” went out he said to himself, Bress de 
Lord! Wants to be ’lone wid de Lord. Nebber want 
to be ‘ ’lone wid de Lord befo’. ’Spec’ de Lord got him 
in His arms jes’ now. Glory, hallelu!” 

What passed, then and there, between God and 
Macdonald, no one ever knew, and should not know; 
but when Uncle Matt was recalled, Macdonald extend- 
ed his hand, and said in tones of mingled tenderness 
and joy, Uncle Matt, I ^believe in the only-begotten 
Son of God.’” 

‘‘The black” took the hand respectfully, and said, 
“ ‘ Bress de Lord, O my soul ; and all dat am widin me, 
bress His holy name ! ’ ’Spec’ yez got religion, Massa 
’Donald.” Then Uncle Matt made the cabin ring, as he 
sang, 

“ Didn’t my Lord d’liver Daniel ? 

D’liver Daniel, d’liver Daniel? 

•Didn’t my Lord d’liver Daniel? 

And why not every man? 

“ I set my foot on the Gospel ship, 

And the ship begin to sail ; 

It landed me over on Canaan’s shore, 

And I’ll never come back any more.” 



I CHAPTER XLVI. 

/ 

HOMEWARD BOUND JOE MORGAN A WARM WELCOME. 

V 

“ Then deem it not an idle thing, 

A pleasant word to speak ; 

The face you wear, the thought you bring, 

A heart may heal, or break.’* 

M en grow by just criticism. To ‘^see 

one’s self as ithers see us” is a necessity to 
improvement. A true critic is a teacher and a friend’ 
“who hands merit up to fame.” He is to be despised 


“ Who pulls down others but to raise his own. 

Is but a satire to set up himself.” 

The true critic holds honorable scales. 

“ Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, 

Thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be. * 

While he puts faults and blunders in one scale, he puts 
the virtues or merits in the other. Improvement is the 
motive and the end of criticism, and public men must in" 
vite and bear it, as to character^ ability, matter, style, 
taste and correctness. But this is not all they need, nor 


2 44 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CUOUDS. 

that every one needs. The Christ was full of blessings. 
Words of encouragement respecting work to be done, and 
of praise for work well done, although it was no more 
than duty, are stimulant and reward. The Honorable Com- 
mittee understand the effect upon the speaker at the po- 
litical meeting of applause and ‘Cioorays,” and see that 
they are given with a will; and as in tumultuous waves 
they sweep upon him, he fires, and wins the day. In 
divine worship, words of agreement or dissent are not, as 
a rule, allowed — and rightly so; for the solemnities of the 
hour, and danger of contention, forbid. One who speaks 
for God has a prior right to protection and attention ; but 
if he turns from his great theme to personalities and as- 
persion, and himself breaks down this privilege, he de- 
serves the retort a woman made from the gallery, Glory 
be to God ! that’s a lie.” If not in words, however, ap- 
proval may fly from the face, and kindle still more the 
preacher, and generous thanks- be given after a helpful 
effort. Preacher Macdonald owed much to the merited 
praise of a few discerning friends, who felt conscious of 
his reserved power, and in sunshiny ways led him on to 
its assertion. 

My reader has seen clouds shadowing Andy’s path, 
when he settled in Basking Shore.” There were days 
and days when he said I labor in vain, and my 
strength is spent for nought; my sermons are weak 
things ;” and so, often, after preaching, he wished there 
were a side door through which he might pass to heav- 
en. His friends saw the mood, and poured on it the 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


245 


bright sunshine of their thanks for help received from those 
undervalued sermons. Like one suddenly awaked from 
troubled dreams, he would stand astonished, and be sure 
to be wonderful the next Sunday. 

A few weeks after the pastor left for Europe the 
spirit of enterprise he had kindled deeply stirred the 
whole congregation. Before he left, he had secured a 
small organ, and said then, Some day, a ‘ sweet-tongued 
bell’ must make music over the hills, in calling you to 
prayer.” The people resolved to hang a bell in the plain 
old wooden belfry; which was easily done, for the mat- 
ter was very popular, and everybody gave something for 
the bell. They also resolved to give their pastor the 
warmest welcome minister ever had, upon his return; 
and a great deal of joy was already felt throughout 
the parish in preparing for that event. It is not neces- 
sary that people shall become rich or grand, in order 
to be supremely happy : they have only to set about 
doing those little things which make other people hap- 
py. And so it happened that the regretted going away 
of the minister led the people on to a great deal of 
pleasure of mind and heart, as they prayed for him, and 
talked about him, and made ready for his coming. The 
crystal waters of a thousand bubbling springs, that go 
leaping down the mountain sides in singing streams and 
laugh along the valleys, make the grand river that, in 
deeper and wider channels, rolls into the sea, after wash- 
ing the dusty and weary feet of many a town and city. 
When our Lord girded Llimself with a towel, to wipe 


246 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


the feet of His disciples — when He had washed them — 
He preached a sermon on joy which our selfish world 
is slow to learn; and it will never get on after glad- 
ness until it does His sermon. 

The brothers and their sister Amy safely reached 
New York city, and put up for a day or two at the 
Astor House — that solid granite building, on lower 
Broadway. The men felt that they had found home 
once more in a land which had been kind to them ; 
and they beheld the growing city with greater pride 
than ever. Amy was filled with curiosity and surprise. 

Amy,” said Bob, after a ride over the city, “ how do 
you like New York?” 

‘H can hardly tell, Bob,” said Amy, ‘‘it is so dif- 
ferent every way from my dear beautiful Edinburgh.” 

“What seems to trouble you?” 

“ Everything seems to me tuijinishedl ” 

“ Very true,” said Bob ; “ I appreciate your criticism. 
You see the unsightly scaffolding, but you must remem- 
ber that cathedrals are not built in a year ; neither is 
a great city built in a generation. By and by there wdll 
be less scaffolding, and the building will then be as 
nearly finished as is possible with progressive ideas.” 

“You interest me. Bob,” said Amy; 

“The great fire in London turned to ashes an un- 
sightly, patched building, and Sir Christopher Wren built 
Westminster Abbey,” said Bob. 

“ Go on. Bob ; you are quite a philosopher. I like to 
hear you. A bright mind is the fairest temple, after all.” 


JOE MORGAN. 


247 


“There has been progress, Amy, since I, a lonely boy, 
v/ent down yonder street and found a friend in Joseph 
Morgan. By the way, Andy,” said Bob, breaking off the 
conversation with Amy, “we must give old Joe^a call.” 

“Yes, and right away,” said Andy; “he has been on 
my mind all the morning.” 

“ Bob,” said Amy, “ is that the way you use an only 
sister? — break off in that way? But I forgive you; and 
Bob, I like New York.” 

Leaving Amy at the hotel, the brothers were soon at 
Joe Morgan’s, and warmly welcomed by Mrs. Morgan, 
while evidently she was sore at heart. 

“How is Mr. Morgan?” asked Bob. 

“Very sick; and I’m so glad ye’re cum! Joseph said, 
in the night, he wished them boys Macdonalds would 
call, on their way hum. Ah, I don’t know how I’m to 
get on without Joseph! We’ve jogged along together 
nigh on fifty year, and he hasn’t hurt my heart wunce — 
not wunce ; and he used to sit in that arm-chair there, 
and read it to me out of his mem’ry. Hope God ’ll spare 
Joseph!” 

“ Can we see him, Mrs. Morgan ?” 

‘’"Sec him? Well now his heart sha’n’t be breaking.” 

The brothers were led to the sick man’s room. Uncle 
Joe was dozing, and they sat down — Bob close by his 
side. 

“Joseph! Joseph!” called Mrs. Morgan ; “Bob, and 
his brother the domine, be here !” 

Uncle Joe opened his eyes; saw Bob; feebly ex- 


248 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


tended his hand to him, and said, Rale glad yer cum ! 
Know’d ye wouldn’t pass York ’out call’n on old Joe 
Morgan. How is ye? How’s the domine? Sea rough, 
Bob ? Eny head-winds ? I hev’ em now, square in the 
face. Why, there’s the domine ! Here’s my hand, domine. 
How d’ye do?” 

Andy grasped the hand, and said, ‘‘ Hearty, uncle 
Joe. Very sorry to see you so sick.” 

‘‘ Think I’m a goin’, domine. A’most down to the 
Narr’s. Jest rig me up a leetle ; fur it might be squally 
get’n through. Told Bob, as ye went away. I’d like, 
kinder like to hev ye say suth’n out o’ that big heart o’ 
your’n, an’ set sails fur me. I be a’most to the Narr’s.” 

Well, Mr. Morgan” — 

‘‘Say Uficle ’ domine, if ye’ve no objections — 
sounds more friendly.” 

“ ‘ Uncle Joe ’ it shall be, then,” said Andy; “ and now 
what can I do for you?” 

“ When the old ship’s timbers are badly sprung, and 
she’s a leak’n all ’long the seams, she don’t tell the 
capt’n what she wants, domine.” 

Andy smiled at the old man’s figure of speech, en- 
joyed it, and said, “ To be sure she don’t ! Her con- 
dition is a prayer for help ; so now let me ask, are you 
afraid to go through the ^Narrows,’ Uncle Joe?” 

“Not ’zactly afeard, domine; but ’tarnity is kinder 
orful, and I hain’t made eny profession as I oughter — 
hain’t been writ ‘on the Lord’s side,’ like Cap’n Joshue, 
nor Cap’n Gid’on, what broke the pitchers,” 


JOE MORGAN. 


249 


‘‘Do you believe in the Bible, then, Uncle Joe?” 

“ B’leeve in the Bible ! — the old Book, where dad 
writ down ‘Joseph Morgan’ ’fore I know’d noth’n ! — I 
wouldn’t disgrace the mem’ry o’ dad and mam ! They’re 
under the Green Mountain sod” — a tear rolled down on 
the pillow — “by say’n I didn’t I I I want ye to 
understand that! They luv’d ther neighbors; and I 
allers kinder thought that was a luv’n God. Mebbe 
I’m wrong — niebbeV'' 

“ Did any body ever talk to you about religion. Un- 
cle Joe?” 

“ Yes ; George Hattington. He runs a mission over 
in Grina’ge street. A rale happy fellow es ever lived. 
Allers cums once a year fur a ’scription — and he gets 
it ! I tell ye, a lot o’ good he’s done,’ and is adoin’ — 
a sing’n and a’ pray’n and a preach’n to them ime- 
grants and sailor boys 1 They all swears on him ; and 
the poor ragged boys and gals git all round him. He 
ain’t afeard o’ the Narr’s, no more’n I’m afeard of the 
watch. ” 

“What did he say to you?” 

“ He said, when I told him I luv’d my neighbors 
my goodness wan’t o’. no account, nohow, afore God. He 
said it bold ! Hard to b’leeve that, domine ! And he, 
said how God wouldn’t notice me, if I didn’t bring 
y^esiis Christ along.” 

“ He said the exact truth. Uncle Joe.” 

“ Did he, domine ? How’s that ?” 

“ Did you never do what conscience condemned ?” 

II* 


250 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


“ Rather wild boy,, domine ; and since, done things 
know’d I didn’t oughter. Swore some, when I seen 
mean men a hurt’n women and children. Feel a lee- 
tle like it now; excuse me. Yes, I confess to some 
sins what consci’nce hit me fur.” 

What did you do then ?” 

Do ? I tried to wear out.” 

‘‘Uncle Joe, here it is in a nutshell. You cannot 
wear them out!” said Andy. 

“Can’t! Flow can I get ’m out, then?” 

“ They must be washed out,” said Andy, tenderly, 
but with such emphasis as deeply affected the old man. 
^‘‘Washed out. Uncle Joe, in the blood of Jesus.” 

“Guess you’ve got me, domine! Never could wear ’m 
out. Tried to. Can’t wear out fast col’rs, kin I?” 

“ Would you feel more like going through the Narrows, 
as you say. Uncle Joe, if now some able one would say, 
‘ Believe in me, and I’ll wash your sins out, and take 
you through to heaven safely?’” 

“ Guess I would, domine!” 

“Well, Jesus Christ says, if you will trust in His 
blood and righteousness, and not in your love for your 
neighbors. He will do that.” 

“ Hev I got the cart afore the boss, domine?” 

“You have. Uncle Joe. You have done Christly 
things, and not had Christ; and they are now no ref- 
uge to you.” 

“ I’d like to cast it over a leetle in my mind, domine.” 

“ You may ; but Christ must be ‘ all in all,’ or 


JOE MORGAN. 


251 


you’ll founder in the Narrows. He wants you as a sin- 
ner first, and then all that you can 
How’s He to git me ?” 

‘‘ Take you, when you come.” 

“ Hev I got to give all up?” 

“ What have you got to keep 

‘‘Old Joe ain’t much, is he? Kinder blush to take 
God nuth’n’ but sin. Feel as tho’ I’d like to hev ye 
pray.” 

The minister prayed. It was a simple, loving little 
prayer; and then Bob prayed for the man who was so 
tender to him when a boy. Uncle Joe’s pillow v/as 

wet under his cheek. The brotheiLS rose to go ; and 

as they said “good-bye,” and passed out. Uncle Joe 
said, “ Got the boss afore the cart. I’ll have ’m washed 
out, I will ; can’t Avear ’m out, nohow.” 

Uncle Joe had been a just and benevolent man, 

and he had never felt that he was wrong with God, 

and felt surprised and humbled as the truth flashed 
on him ; but he resolved to face the consequences of self- 
examination and trust. 

From that day, he mended in body and in mind, 
and studied the Word. Day after day his heart enlarged; 
and penitence, trust, and adoring love took possession — 
that is to say, Christ. When sufficiently recovered, 
he resolved to satisfy an old longing; sold out his prop- 
erty, and, with his wife, removed to the old homestead 
among the Green Mountains. The old couple were warm- 
ly welcomed by the people of the church with which 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


252 

they became connected. They sat in the old pew at 
the foot of the pulpit stairs ; and so, beloved, honored 
and chappy, they waited till the' sun went down. 

Our travelers, Andy, Bob, and Amy, reached Buffalo 
safely, and were glad. Amy tarried with Bob. Andy 
and Rachel, who, with the children, had been waiting 
the arrival of the party, soon started for ‘‘Basking Shore 
the time of which starting had been secretly sent on by 
Tom Dalton. 

A happy delegation met the surprised pastor and 
his family on the edge of the village, and joyfully es- 
corted them to the* parsonage, which had been put in 
good order by plain, practical Betsey Griggs. Rich is 
that town which has a Betsey Griggs! She was called 
“ eld maid ” by some who had not lived to call her 
so, if she had not watched over them through a sea- 
son of typhoid. To be sure she was queer, and likely 
as not to start for church with the wrong bonnet on^ 
and certain to have her way, if she did anything; but 
there was this about Betsey — her way was so “just the 
thing” and so well done, that all were in the end glad 
to let her have it. 

Betsey waited for the procession — peeping from be- 
hind the curtain of the window — and when she saw 
Andy and Rachel, she rushed out into the wood-shed. 
A big heart Betsey had ! 

The sun had now gone down, and its rosy blush 
was dying from the clouds, and the lamp-lighter was 
hanging out his lights in the soft, dreamy sky, when 


JOE MORGAN. 


253 


suddenly the church bell sent its music cheerily through 
all the windows and doors of the parsonage. He was 
an old church bell-ringer who had hold of the rope, 
whose heart was in the matter — for he had come from 
the Clyde, and had rung the chimes when Andy was 
a boy. There is a beautiful story all about Robert 
Burns Robinson’s love for Andy, which is too long to 
tell in this book. 

As the merry music came in at the windows, conver- 
sation ceased. Andy listened, surprised; and, delighted, 
asked, ‘‘How is this? What does that mean?” 

“That means,” said John Lincoln, “that you, dear 
pastor, are called to the meeting-house by our own new 
bell.” 

“ Bell ! to the meeting-house ? Is it meeting-night ? 
Bell ! our new bell !” said Andy, astonished. 

The party started, led by the pastor and wife, and 
entered by the centre door — the bell ringing all the 
while — and, as they passed up the aisle to chairs under 
the pulpit, the happy, packed throng, rose and sang a 
song of Christian greeting, than which there is nothing 
under heaven sweeter. Had you been there, genial 
reader — been there in Andy’s place — could you have 
kept back the tears ? Andy could not, nor Rachel 
either. When the song ceased, John Lincoln tried to 
pray; but it was a burst of thanksgiving from begin- 
ning to the end. Then came silence, and waiting for the 
pastor. Andy with difficulty rose to his feet. “ My people,” 
he said .... such a clapping of hands as there was then 


254 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


‘‘ Basking Shore” had never heard. My dear people” — 
he began again; but that was as far as he ever got — and 
held out both hands, which all crowded to take and shake. 

The next day Andy said, “ Rachel, I am getting the 
rheumatism ; my right shoulder is lame.” 

Rheumatism, Andy ?” said Rachel. I knew last 
night that you would be complaining to-day — they shook 
your hand so heartily. Mine is lame also. This is pleas- 
ant ; but oh the lameness of ingratitude ! I am thinking 
of Elder Jackson.” 

A collation had been spread by the ladies, in par- 
taking of which, and singing and general congratulation, 
a bright night was made, and passed on with a silver 
mark on its brow. Why do we not draw more of these 
bright lines? The bow on the cloud is wrought by sun- 
beams shimmering through tears. 

So far and so high as Dick, Brunton could appre- 
ciate, no one was happier than he. The bell, the songs, 
the sight, and tender word to him from Andy, over- 
whelmed him, and sent him out to the barn to cry 
awhile. Putting his lips close to Dandy’s ear he said, 
‘‘ Dandy, the Elder’s cum! We luv the Elder, don’t we. 
Dandy?” Dick tells that Dandy pushed his cap olf; 
and that he meant, ‘‘We does — take yer cap off when 
ye say ‘ Elder.’ ” 

The thrill that rushed along the man’s nerves broke 
one of the dark cords twisted around his brain; and, 
from that day, many observing people said “ Dick Brun- 
ton’s brighter.” So will it be in the resurrection ! 


CHAPTER XLVII. 


AMY BURNS AND TOM DALTON 


I’ll do my best to win, whene’er I woo ; 

That man loves not who is not zealous too.” 


MY BURNS MACDONALD tarried six months 



j[~\^ at brother Bob’s, in Buffalo, and, by no con- 
scious effort, became the trusted friend of all. Amy 
was a deep study. Unintentionally, people studied her. 
There was a chapter in her character to be read, of 
which she was herself unconscious ; and hence was 
surprised when she saw others looking intently at her. 
She was sharply independent, but at the service of the 
very weakest. Her voice was firm, but musical ; and 
her thoughts indicated a soul chastened by fire. It 
is no wonder that she read character, and could not 
be blinded by flattery or sophistry ; was often blunt and 
searching, and greatly misunderstood. Amy’s ideal was 
very high, and she rallied and scourged all her powers 
to attain it. Often she failed, as do all ; and was then 
angry at herself, and discouraged, and wanted to be let 
alone — was indeed uncompanionable. This is in truth 
only the friction of faculties in the course of development. 


256 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Will Amy Burns Macdonald marry? It is doubtful. 
She is intellectual, refined, charming in conversation on 
moral and social themes; often humorous, and states her 
opinions sharply and frankly. She has many admirers, 
but lovers none. Shallow minds felt shallow in her pres- 
ence; did not want to be pitied, and passed on. 

When Amy came to Bob’s, Tom Dalton was a hand- 
some man, and delightful company. Everybody liked 
to hear his laugh, as it came ringing up from the bot- 
tom of his heart. It was contagious, and put every 
body in good humor. Tom had a noble ancestry, al- 
though he did not know it ; was himself the soul of 
honor, and could not be little. If some venerable 
grandam was at the party, she was sure to be seen 
hanging on Tom’s arm. If some young girl was sur- 
passed by the brilliancy of her sisters, in any way — in 
dress or education — Tom paid gentle and considerate 
attention to her ; which, when noticed by the haughty, 
brought them to her corner, when they would observe 
to Tom — It is so delightful to go about doing good!” 

Tom was poor in money. He had only recently 
been made a member of the firm; but on account of 
his great gifts of mind and heart, no one was more 
freely welcomed into the very best society of Buffalo, 
than he. 

About in this way matters stood when Tom first saw 
Amy Burns — the only sister of his friends Andy and 
Bob Macdonald. Instantly he felt himself to be in the 
presence of a very superior woman ; one who defied his 


AMY BURNS AND TOM DALTON. 


257 


usual tests; held him firmly at a distance, and yet more 
than excited his admiration. Tom’s beautiful eyes and 
expressive countenance had no power over Amy, except 
to school herself against him. “ What does Tom Dalton 
think of God, and not of me ?” she said, while there 
was awakened in her heart a hunger for appreciation. 

Tom studied Amy, arid very soon loved her as she 
was never loved before ; for he was the first man to 
discern, through a seeming perversity of faculties which 
might render the superficial uncomfortable, a noble mind 
and a long-suffering heart. Tom was the first man who 
would not be held at a distance, and who studied Amy 
as a kind critic studies a great picture, in every light. 
He intends to marry Amy ! Amy does not think of 
such a thing, and now would instantly refuse, and then 
wonder why she did. Tom sees this; and also sees that 
the love of truth and the great cause only, will surely win 
her heart. He sees that he must love the great and 
good things loved by her. It was therefore fortunate that 
Dalton was already engaged in various benevolent enter- 
prises, inside and outside the church ; believing as he did, 
that organization was necessary to permanent results. 
But this was not all. Unostentatiously and alone, on his 
own account, he visited desolated homes, and vile places 
where sailors from the lake and poor canal-boys were 
sick and dying. Many were thus saved to God and 
society. My reader therefore sees that the thoughts of 
Tom and Amy were about the same, respecting our 
duty to the wretched classes, and that the conversation 


258 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


very easily fell into this channel. It so happened that 
Tom had a trying case on hand, and was thoughtful. 
Amy noticed the mood, and asked why ?” 

“ I pitied a forlorn man. He reformed, but has fall- 
en,” said Tom. 

Is he sorry for it ?” asked Amy. 

He is. Laments bitterly, and promises to do better.” 

“ Do we not all do so ?” asked Amy. I think we do.” 

» ‘‘True, Amy, I never thought of that,” said Tom; “we 
are all the time failing, repenting, and trying to be better.” 

“We differ only in degree,” said Amy; “and some- 
times it is difficult to tell the degree.” 

“ And in support. One has God — the other none,” 
said Tom. “ Here the degree of difference is great.” 

“ Are not all who are in trouble near to God ?” 
asked Amy. “ I never felt God so near, as in a room 
I don’t care to describe — sad with trouble, and bright 
with repentance. Allow me to ask, does your man speak 
the truth,^ or equivocate ?” 

“ Open as the day !” answered Tom. 

“Then hold on,” said Amy. “My discouragements in 
Edinburgh were not so much in‘ the falls as in the lies 
told about them. While their breath was hot with gin 
they would declare that they had not touched a drop? 
and call on God to witness. It was terrible!” 

“ How did you treat such ?” asked Tom. 

“ Tenderly, and as those in whom truth had never 
been ; who, feeling that all the world was against them, 
only asked how they could live, nor cared for right 


AMY BURNS AND TOM DALTON. 


259 


or wrong. With such I tried to create an idea of a'uth^ 
and said little about their sins. I differed from some 
of the ministers.” 

What is the best way, Miss Amy ?” said Tom. 

I know conditions better than what to do with them.”, 

“ Go yourself^ as a personal friend,” said Amy. 

“They do not read tracts, and they jeer at the preach- 
ers in the cathedrals. They will listen to the preach- 
ing only of one who has fed them, and ‘visited them 
in prison.’ They don’t like the man who is paid a 

great salary to come to them.” 

“ What is their actunL moral condition V 
“ Some are hopelessly depraved \ others, though 
bruised and blackened, are yet, within, astonishingly ten- 
der-hearted, and rebuke the lawlessness about them. 
There is, here and there, really a grand soul.” 

“I fully agree with you, Amy,” said Tom. “Money 
is needed, but the presence of good people more. The 
visits of such are never forgotten. They will go and 
look lovingly towards his home, and creep inside his 
church.” — Vvhth this remark, Dalton went out. 

Amy sat a long while after this conversation in si- 
lence, thinking about life, and Tom Dalton. — Yes, Tom 
Dalton ! — She felt a little lonesome, and was startled ; went 
into the garden, but the roses did not bind her; talked 
with Bob, and he noticed an unusual absent-minded- 
ness, and said, “ Amy’s heart is in Edinburgh.” Amy 
went to her room ; read God’s word, and prayed for the 
poor — and Tom Dalton. A few days after this, Tom 


26 o 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


was very ill. The physician came often. Amy walked 
softly, and prayed /or his recovery, for the sake of the 
poor I — Tom grew still worse. Amy was more anxious, 
and prayed more. 

Five months are gone. Amy will soon go to ‘‘ Bask- 
ing Shore and Tom, when talking with Amy about the 
matter and the marriage of a friend, said, half seriously 
alid half humorously, “ Miss Macdonald, do you intend 
to marry, when a suitable person asks your hand?” 

‘Mdow very dignified ! — Aliss Macdonald! When did 
you become Hymen’s confessor? I am not at the con- 
fessional, sir! — never was — never will be,” stoutly declar- 
ed Amy. Why ask 7ne such a question ? Surely you 
have no right !” 

Beg your pardon,” Miss Amy. ^‘What do you think 
of weddings ?” 

“Nothing sir,” replied Amy, somewhat sharply, “ex- 
cepting that some of them are sad and foolish, as I 
happen to know — a real misfortune — yes, a calamity !” 

“Why?” asked Tom. 

“ Money and sin !” said Amy. 

“ The want of money ?” asked Tom. 

“No; the greed of it. Daughters are sold for cash! 
Love of solid qualities is the only safe basis.” 

“ Would you have a man marry without the means 
to support his wife ?” said Andy. 

“ Integrity, labor and economy will, with God’s bless- 
ing, bring the mea?is. But why do you ask me such 


AMY BURNS AND TOM DALTON. 


261 


questions? Do you intend to marry, Mr. Thomas Dal- 
ton ?” 

‘‘I do,” said Tom, laughing. ‘‘I am looking for a 
wife now. Will you” — 

“No offence, Tom,” quickly ^ replied Amy. Let me 
help you. Let me speak of Miss Lucy Morgan. She is 
very beautiful, and is pleased with your attention. I have 
noticed it.” 

“ Tom Moore and I agree,” said Tom. 


“ ‘ For her beautiful mind I loved her.* ** 

Amy Burns knew that Tom Dalton intended to ask 
her a pointed question, and, dreading the responsibility 
of answering it then, strove to avoid it. Her heart 
fluttered and face flushed with the excitement of her 
thought, and, feeling more and more defenceless, wished, 
and did not wish, that he would go. 

Tom saw with pleasure the agitation, and concluded 
that he might report progress to his hope, and quietly 
said, “Amy, will you correspond with your friend Tom, 
from ‘ Basking Shore’ ? ” 

“I am a lady, sir, and answer respectful letters from 
any place where I may happen to be.” 

“ Good evening, Amy.” 

“ Good evening, Mr. Dalton — Tom.” 

Tom went out amused at the perversity of love, and 
through the month was unusually full, even for him, of 
sensible mirth; for he knew his hem't had a bride I 


262 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Amy saw it, and was glad. Had a secret she 
would not tell her angel. Carried it with her to Bask- 
ing Shore,” and then waited impatiently for a letter. 

Love has neither past nor future^ 

Till thou break its awful vow. 

Neither was, nor. shall be blessed — 


It is one eternal now.” 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

THE TWO QUEENS. 

HERE IS in our world a queen of high birth, 



exceeding beauty and love. No one has seen her 


face at any time, but some’ have come so near as to 
catch the flash of the brilliant jewels filling her crown, 
and hear the soft rustling of her satin robes. Some 
have heard her speak, and say they never can forget 
how musically she spoke; how unlike any earthly voice 
for richness, they ever heard, it was.” But many have 
seen her works, which, for beauty and value, are be- 
yond the works which we see lifted up in the great 
hills, or shining in the deep, dreamy sky, or rolling for- 
ever in the majestic ocean. 

It has been noticed by those who closely observe 
what things make our world pleasant, warm .and fruit- 
ful, like a soft, bright summer’s day; and what things 
make it dreary, cold and stormy, like a bitter winter’s 
day, that wherever this royal queen comes, happiness 
comes with her, and from what place she goes, hap- 
piness departs; also, that she comes and stays where 
she is wooed, and there only; and that her heart is 


264 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


SO sensitive, that while she can bear great burdens, she 
will not submit to any disrespect or treachery whatsoever. 

It has also been remarked by those acquainted with 
her ways^ that she is no respecter of persons, in so far 
as their wealth or poverty, or any other condition which 
men regard so much, is concerned. She dwells in palace 
and cabin alike; but for some reason or other has been 
known to forsake the mansion for the porter’s lodge, and 
flee the cabin for the palace. For some reason, known 
to herself, she has been known to forsake mighty rulers, 
states, and churches, and take up her abode with bearers 
of burdens and outcasts by the tangled wayside. 

It is not that this queen is full of freaks, for queen 
never had so few ; neither is it because she is unduly 
ambitious to gain more jewels for her crown than belong 
to her, that she has changed her residence so often, and 
wandered abroad so far; because for herself sh'e needs 
no more jewels, nor extended dominion ; for already she 
is queen of a city whose splendor hath never been told, 
and whose inhabitants cannot be counted even by her 
wisest minister. 

There was once a man who got up to the top of a 
very high mountain, unknown by all except himself and 
his family, who said that from thence he looked through 
an “open door” into a great city, and that the “throne,” 
“rivers” and “streets” and “walls” and people, were so 
bright, rich and happy, as to be utterly beyond descrip- 
tion. In that brilliant city of jasper walls our queen has 
reigned no one can tell how long; so that it is very 


THE TWO QUEENS. 


plain to be seen, even by the little child our queen wants 
to kiss, that her visits into our world are entirely visits 
of mercy. 

Furthermore, it is said that our wonderful queen 
writes a great many letters, in a great many languages, 
and that they are sent into every city and nook of 
the world, carrying joy, comfort, and gratitude where- 
ever they go. These letters, it is said, bring about 
many a bright ‘^bridal day.” But a great many years 
ago this ‘^beautiful one” met in her way, one day, 

another queen, of detestable form and face. No one 
knows yet from whence she came. That she was not 
born in the good queen’s city is certain, for she bears 
no resemblance to any one there — so the oldest 

inhabitants say.. The good queen was startled, and 
tried to pass by, but the evil queen would not per- 
mit it ; stood in her way, and scowled and defied 
her ; and §aid that she should not rest until she had 
driven the good queen from the earth. Our fair 
queen wept, and the ugly thing vanished away. She 
did not go far away, however, but concealed herself 
for a while, until she had formed plans to carry mis- 
ery into every heart whose door she should find left 
open. The authorities say that she has been very suc- 
cessful. That there has never been a bloody battle, 

nor dissension in governments, nor trouble in the church 
and family, nor with individuals, but that she has had 
more or less to do with it. It is said that she will not 

allow any comparison to be made with regard to her 
12 


266 


SUNSHINE AxMONG THE CLOUDS. 


pedigree, intelligence, wealth or beauty ; and that sJie 
resorts to the most infamous measures to displace a 
rival in the affections of her lover, and has been known 
to break up many friendships which would have ripened 
into happy unions, and then boasted of her victory. 

The means she employs for such results are words ^ 
apparently carelessly dropped, which have a double 
meaning', or which excite vague but fatal suspicions — 
looks^ which insinuate that the half nor quarter has 
been told that she could tell, were she not under 
bonds of secrecy. When these means are not possible? 
by reason of her intended victim living far away, she 
writes, or indites letters. Indeed, this is delightful to 
her, although more dangerous, from the fact that they 
exist as fatal testimony when she is brought into the 
court of honor and truth, to be tried for her crimes. 
More dangerous, and also more relishable from another 
reason — that her victim must for a longer time endure 
agony; and because the chances are greater that before 
letters could pass to and fro seeking the truth, she 
would have gained her purpose. We will only add 
now, for want of space, that she is cruel and unjust 
in the extreme, and disguises herself as an “ angel of 
light,” in order that she may enter houses where else 
she would be locked out. 

***##* 

Amy was welcomed to the parsonage at Basking 
Shore with all the warmth of true affection. Her life 
had been spent in the busy city, and her meditative, 


THE TWO QUEENS. 


267 


poetic nature was charmed by the beauty and quiet of 
Basking Shore. Sensible woman as she was, she felt 
a delightful harmony with the plain ways of the town 
and church people, and felt that she could live and 
die among them contentedly. Soon she became a popu- 
lar auntie with Andy’s children and their playmates, and 
found plenty of employment, inasmuch as there was one 
in the cradle upon whom any amount of time could be 
spent. 

Happy and busy as Amy was with affairs of church 
and parsonage, Tom Dalton was very often in her 
thoughts. Absence from him deepened her admiration 
for his loyal character, and she received his first letter 
with ill-concealed joy, and answered it in the same 
spirit in which appare7itly it had been sent. 

She was now expecting another and far more im- 
portant letter from Tom, when she took from the office 
the following one: 

“ Buffalo. 

‘‘Miss Amy B. Macdonald: 

My Dear Friend : — Although we were not very inti- 
mate when you were here, I greatly miss you. Indeed, I 
never met a lady who won my love so quickly as you. You 
charmed our circle, and every one is praising you, and all 
hope that you will be well settled in life. There is a dearth 
of news; but it may be well for you to know that last Wed- 
nesday evening Lawyer Burnham gave an elegant party. 
All your friends were there, and among them Mr. Dalton ; 
and I must say, in confidence, that I was surprised and 
pained — for I knew you placed great confidence m hhn — 
to see the excessive attention he paid to Nellie Graham, the 


263 


SUNSHixXE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


beautiful and proud daughter of Doctor Graliam. He talked, 
v/alked and paid her the most interested attention. And 
that was not all. Yesterday afternoon they went out to- 
gether in a carriage on the Lake Road ! ! 

‘‘ W e all hope you will not tarry long in Basking Shore, 
so entirely unsuited for the display of accomplishments so 
great as yours. I begin to feel a little afraid that I have 
said too much, but I will be a real true sister to you. What- 
ever happens, don’t for the world ever mention that I wrote 
you, for you know the holy Bible says, ‘ It is the glory of 
God to conceal a thing.’ Please burn this letter as soon 
as you read it. 

‘‘Your very devoted friend, 

“Lucy Morgan.” 

Amy held the letter a long while in her hand, 
read and re-read it — was deeply hurt; so much so, that 
she grew pale, and could not cry. Her sense of hon- 
or was bruised, her confidence betrayed, and she was 
deeply indignant. Her father’s religion was “ honor,” and 
it boiled in his daughter’s veins. After a little she had 
a thought — grew calm — folded up the letter, and laid 
it away. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 


GOOD NEWS — AND SEEKING A PULPIT. 


Their lost they have, they hold ; from pain 
A keener bliss they borrow. 


How natural is joy, my heart ! ' 
How easy after sorrow !” 


OOD NEWS are rays of sunshine. Bad news 



are cloud-banks. Voiceless letters bring both ; 


and those in black are opened with a trembling hand. 

Andy spent the morning hours of the day after his 
arrival from Europe in his study, looking carefully through 
the large package of correspondence which had accu- 
mulated in the post-office during his absence. One let- 
ter only, however, had particular interest at this time; 
and that one was from faithful John Maccullum. 

UNCLE JOHN’S LETTER, AS CORRECTED BY MR. PAXTON. 

My Dem^ Andy: — 

‘‘ At last the sun shines, and in its warmth and 
light I write the glad tidings. 1 never was so happy 
in all my life, ‘glory be to God!’ Your father, Andy, 
is a new man. A new man 1 ‘ I'he terrible principles 
which had been the curse of his years, the cause of much 
double, are all abandoned, and God has no more loving 


270 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

and adoring son. I could scarcely believe my ears or 
eyes when, with a countenance gleaming with the light 
of a great discovery, he told me the story of his ‘ death 
unto life,’ by the grace of God. It is indeed very won- 
derful ! and the faith of your mother is fully vindicated 
in marvelous victory. You ask, by what means has 
this result been secured ? I think God has used your 
mother’s life — the utter failure of his own ideas to give 
him peace — the voices of nature, and the experience 
of an old negro, who waits on him. Your father’s earn- 
est entreaty is, that you and Bob shall hasten to his 
side. He talks constantly about his children — his wronged 
and dear children. 

■ Come to Montreal as quickly as possible, and iiv 
quire at ‘‘Paxton’s Hat Shop ” — see Directory — for 
“Uncle John Maccullum.” 

Andy hid his face in his hands, and wept for joy. 
Few were the words he spake, but oh ! how glad he 
was ! Glasgow’s dreadful clouds fly away in the dash of 
this bright light. 

“ The joys of earth are flowers that spring 
From out the ashes of the dead.’^ 


For an hour he sat thinking and singing in his heart, 
holding the precious letter crushed in his hand, dripping 
with sweetness, when . a gentle rap was was made on 
his door. He knew it, and said, “Come in.” 

Rachel came in, and, startled, said, as she saw the 
evidence of unusual emotion, “What news have you, 
Andrew? Are they bad? No; I see they are good.” 


GOOD NEWS. 


271 


He handed her the letter, which she read and 

well ! Rachel rejoiced over him whom she had 

never seen, nor heard much about. In a little while 
she said, I am forgetting my errand, husband. A 
gentleman is waiting in the parlor, to see you. Shall I 
ask him into the study ?” 

Did he give you his name ?” 

Yes. Mr. Samuel Berkley.” 

‘‘ Sam Berkley ! God bless him ! Yes, bring him 
right in. Sam is a noble fellow.” 

Andy made the Rev. Samuel Berkley feel at home 
at once — he had that way with him. He said, ‘‘The 
man I want to see is the man who wants to see me.” 
The men were old college friends. 

Berkley was a man of solid worth and knowledge, 
and stood well as a theologian. The wonderful system 
of theological truth he understood and loved, and all 
his sermons were methodical, logical and true — indeed, 
as to that, they would stand the severest tests; but he 
had scarcely a particle of imagination. Poetry was with 
him nonsense, and sentiment dangerous.* He forgot that 
feathered arrows strike their mark, as well as bald minie 
balls; hence his hearer was seldom relieved by kindling 
illustration or' anecdote ; and so he generally shot over 
even the hard heads of those who' cried, “Sound doc- 
trine that!” — “Capital, capital!” 

“ Well, Sam,” said Andy, toying with the letters, “ I 
always liked you, and am glad to see you. What are 
you doing ?” 

“ Candidating, Andy.” 


272 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Candidating, Sam ? Why should a man of your 
ability be candidating ?’•’ • 

The usual cloud gloomed Berkley’s face, and he re- 
plied, as one who had been wronged and humiliated be- 
fore men, I do not know why, Andy.” 

Macdonald counted his letters over and over, hardly 
knowing what to say, fearing to give offence'; but sus- 
pecting Berkley desired his help in some way, concluded 
to find out his circumstances, that he might have a 
ground of action. 

Let me see,” said Andy kindly; ‘‘you first settled 
as pastor over the church at Liberty Corners, did you 
not?” 

“ I did,” replied Berkley. 

“Beg your pardon, Sam — did you fail there?” 

“ Neither in preaching the doctrines, nor in building 
up some of my hearers in the faith. Squire Hewson 
said he was greatly ‘ edified by the strong meat,’ but 
I confess that the congregation was rather diminished.’’ 

“ Did they ask you to leave ? — a plain question, 
Sam.” 

“ No ; neither by resolution, nor coldness on the part 
of -the majority, and my resignation was sorrowfully re- 
ceived; but my small success, and the opposition of a 
few shallow people, who almost smothered me when I 
first came, led me to resign.” 

“ How did the character of the church stand, Sam, 
in the town, when you left ?” 

“ Higher in every way than when I settled there — 
a number of abuses had ceased.” 


GOOD NEWS. 


273 


You have made a sad mistake, Sam, depend upon 
it — an unfortunate surrender. Liberty Corners will soon 
be a large town. You should have held on tenaciously, 
and changed your methods of work a little. As to the 
shallow people, you should have considered them as a 
means of grace j and gone on without them.” 

“ Do you think so ?” said Berkley. “ I have hun- 
gered for my old people and pulpit, but I cannot go back. 
What shall I do?” 

“ Have you been to Cloverville ?” 

Yes, but found no clover. The church is poor; 
meeting-house heavily mortgaged ; said they must have 
a man to lift the debt, and didn’t think I was the man. 
Guess they’re right, Andy.” 

‘‘ Where else have you been, Sam ?” 

“ I spent a Sunday in Windsor — a smart town.” 

Well ?” said Andy, leading him on. 

‘‘ Five of the leading men gave me a warm recep- 
tion ; said a letter from Liberty Corners spoke of me 
as an ^ able doctrinal preacher.’ ” 

‘^Is that all?” 

No. They gave me a particularly icy good-bye.” 

Why ?” 

‘‘They said my doctrine wouldn’t suit — that Squire 
Bottlesome objected to my views on total depravity.” 

“Indeed! What does the Squire do for a living?” 

“ Runs a distillery. Two of his sons are already 
nearly ruined.” 

“ The Lord was kind to you that time, Sam. Where 

else have you been ?” 

12* 


2 74 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Down to Bloomingville. Liked the place and peo- 
ple, and seemed to make a good impression; but some 
knowing ones, you know, said ‘ they felt a doubt.’ ” 
doubt! About what?” 

Whether I could entertain and hold the yoimg people. 
Rev. Mr. Soarwing, in the other church, was drawing 
all the young folks, and they wanted to put a stop to 
it — the quartette didn’t do it.” 

My dear fellow, what did you do then ?” 

Went to Ivanhoe, and spent two Sundays there.” 

Ivanhoe ? Delightful place,” said Andy — ‘‘wish you 
could go there ; a very fine field. What was in your 
way at Ivanhoe ?” 

“ What was in the way ? Enough, Andy — fourteen 
good ministers of our Lord; seven more of the best to 
be heard. I was fifteenth. When the seven had been 
heard, the church would take an informal vote. One 
man said that my prospects were fair.” 

“ Indeed 1” said Andy, sarcastically. “ Scandalous ! A 
wrong to twenty-two men, a grief to the Spirit, and a 
great injury to the cause. Shame! shame! that God’s 
church should resolve itself into a poor little critical so- 
ciety !” 

“ You pity me, I see,” said Berkley. “ I think I’ll 
go into the insurance business. Income doubled, and a 
gold watch into the bargain — had an offer!” 

^‘Thcn I should pity you, if I did not despise — 
now I don’t. It’s all right, Sam — you are among clouds, 
and so is God’s sunshine. You are having an experi- 
ence you do not deserve.” 


SEEKING A PULPIT. 


275 


I came here,” said Berkley, “ to unload my burdened 
heart. I love preaching, but I cannot stand this hu- 
miliation unto degradation. Give me your advice.” 

Macdonald sat still, thinking seriously for awhile, and 
poor Berkley was the picture of despair. Brightening up 
at length, he said, ‘‘Sam! I have it now — one of these 
letters is from the church at Burning Bush. They ask 
me to name a pastor for them. The church is poor, 
but united and progressive, and commands a large field. 
I will send you there on one condition.” 

“ Name it. I’ll follow it to the death 1” and Berk- 
ley’s deep eyes flashed. 

“ That fire is grand, Sam,” said Andy ; “ let it blaze ; 
let yourself out; unbuckle the band, and give yourself 
room. You have digested yourself almost to death, 
Sam. Don’t be bound by the everlasting proprieties of 
other people, but be in a good sense ‘ all things to all 
men.’ You have come to me, feeling that you are a fail- 
ure. Your face, manner and voice say so ; and as you 
have put yourself into my hands for an experiment, I must 
preach a little to you. As a rule, those churches you 
mentioned were not to blame. It has been well said, 
‘ You conquer your hearers, or your hearers conquer 
you.’ You allowed them to conquer you easily. You 
should have felt, ‘ They shall not.’ Then would you 
have conquered, and they would have forgotten the 
reasons given for not calling you. It may be hard, but 
it is true ; the church that must carry the pulpit will 
grow weaker and weaker. Now, my dear fellow, lay 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


aside your learned and elaborated treatises on accepted 
cr disputed points (read them to the ministers). Stop 
defending what is rarely assaulted, and go heart fore- 
most, and talk simply, tenderly and joyfully, as to needy 
and tried and breaking hearts ; take some text that 
has been like a dripping honeycomb to you in trial. 
Visit the wretchedest man you can find in town ; pray 
and talk cheerfully with him ; then think the sermon 
through — with or without the pen in your hand — and 
gather illustrations as Jesus did, from nature and every- 
day life. Having done this, or something like it — never 
forgetting your source of power, God — go to ^Burning 
Bush ’ not caring a fig whether you stay or not ; but 
determined to do one grand day’s work in loyalty to 
Jesus and souls. One word more, Sam, if you will 
allow me.” 

Allow you?” said Berkley; go on, Andy. I see 
my mistake, I was never so moved. I long for the 
conflict.” 

Andy saw with satisfaction the kindled eye, the 
crimson glow on the pale face, the firm lip, and added : 

On Saturday night, commit all to God. Go to bed, 
and to sleep. In the morning read a joyful Psalm or 
Christly benediction. Walk alone to the meeting-house, 
thinking over the strong points of the sermon and the 
sore need, crying out to you from every heart Then 
preach thoughtless of Sam Berkley, but as in the pres- 
ence of a great cloud of witnesses (all on your side) 
and as to a little child.” 


SEEKING A PULPIT. 


277 

“ So help me God, I’ll do it 1” said Berkley, and he 
unconsciously brought a heavy hand down on the table. 
Dull, dry, honest, methodical Sam Berkley was all on 
fire ; his powerful frame shook with a deep inspiration — 
he stood there a mighty man of a mighty God, impatient 
for the struggle, with his hand on victory. 

Sam Berkley preached the. next Sunday at Burning 
Bush,” on the “ Burning Bush and, at the second ser- 
vice, many people turned aside to see why the bush 
was not burned.” The hearts and wills of the people 
were stormed, and taken for God. The only question 
asked was — Can we get him? He was asked, Mr. 
Berkley, will you be our minister?” 

“ I will,” said the glad man : “ I have come to stay.” 

Several years have passed away since then, but Sam 
Berkley preaches grandly at ‘^Burning Bush;” and often, 
when he thinks the whole matter over, he bows his 
head and says, “ O Father, bless Andy Macdonald.” 


CHAPTER L. 


SELDEN, OR DALTON? 

H enry SELDEN, the student who found Uncle 
Matt perishing in the snow on one bitter night 
in winter, graduated with honor, and settled over a 
flourishing city church. There were profounder students 
than he, in special lines ; but he excelled as a popular 
preacher, and leader in aggressive work. His reading 
was thorough, varied, well digested ; and his memory 
retentive and exact; so that he was ready for any em- 
ergency, and some of his short platform talks were 
brilliant. His people were justly proud of him, which 
is necessary to extensive influence and happy union. 
The church prospered, and Selden was happy ; but his 
labors began to tell against his health, and he was glad 
to enter upon a generous vacation. Instead of going to 
Niagara or Saratoga, he went to ‘‘ Basking Shore,” where 
he could roam through the woods and fish in the lake. 
Pie was the guest of Deacon Silas Knowlton, an old 
friend of his lamented father. 

As was natural, Selden was much with Andy Mac- 
donald, who greatly helped him by his advice and preach- 


SELDEN, OR DALTON ? 279 

ing; and he, by his refined and simple manners, became 
a favorite at the parsonage, and entered with zest into 
whatever gave pleasure. He was told that Amy, An- 
dy’s sister, was coming to see them; and hearing so 
many good things said about her, found himself ex- 
pecting her also, with evident interest. 

Amy came; and after a day or two, Selden called 
at the parsonage, to taJk with Andy about a plan for 
reaching the young men in the city, and accepted an 
invitation to tea. Then he saw, and was introduced 
to. Miss Amy Burns Macdonald. During tea-time and 
through the evening conversation could not flag, with 
such intelligent minds to sustain it. Amy at times was 
drawn out ; and Selden saw that for solid common sense, 
sharp perceptive powers, and love for all that is good, 
he had known but one who equaled her, and she died 
before the “ bridal day.” Selden was satisfied, charmed 
with Amy, at the end of a week. He did not wish 
to act precipitately, but his vacation was drawing to a 
close, and he concluded to ask Amy to correspond with 
him, in a sense involving more than ordinary friend- 
ship — and he did. 

“ Mr. Selden,” said Amy, it is impossible ! I do 
not know how it is with me. I must wait and see.” 

How was it with Amy? She was unhappy; but 
from no conscious wrong on her part. She had not, 
by word or act, striven to influence Tom to ask her 
for her hand, which he did, in a letter just received. 
Selden had attracted Amy’s attention and won her ad- 


iSo SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

miration. His mental abilities were not greater than 
Tom’s ; but . he was better educated, and from childhood 
had moved among cultivated people; and there was a 
charm about him everybody felt, and acknowledged. 
A woman of Amy’s ability and habits of heart, could 
not but prize the confidence and fellowship of one like 
Henry Selden, whose principles and culture pleased her 
so well ; and had she never known Tom Dalton, proba- 
bly would have encouraged Henry Selden. 

No; it was not in Amy Burns’ nature to act yet, 
because she could not act intelligently, although stung 
by what seemed to her the basest treachery — if the let- 
ter from Lucy Morgan was true; and so she wisely, pa- 
tiently waited, like the sensible woman that she was. 

A few days passed, and Selden came to the par- 
sonage to say good-byo; found Amy alone and said, 
Amy, I have come to say ‘ good-bye,’ and I want 
to know if you now feel more favorably toward me? 
Perhaps upon reflection your way has become clear.” 

‘‘Very kindly do I feel toward you, Mr. Selden,” 
said Amy, “as I do toward all men who serve God 
and humanity as you do. I like gold in all forms, and 
especially when the King's name is on it.” 

“ Thank you ; but is that all^ Miss Amy ? I desire 
more than that in you — why may I not? It seems 
more and more to me that God made us to walk to- 
gether.” 

“That is all^ Mr. Selden,” said Amy; “walking in 
God’s light, and duty’s path, we walk together, though 


SELDEN, OR DALTON? 


281 


Something important hinders you,” said Selden ; or 
that you think is important.” 

Something that you should not know,” said Amy, 
firmly. 

1 beg your pardon. Miss Macdonald,” said Selden, 
set back by Amy’s manner; I am impulsive, but mean 
to be honorable. I am going to my great work in the 
city — a work so grand that it invites an angel’s powers; 
and now I will frankly say, that for many reasons I 
must marry, when I find a lady like yourself.” 

There are a ■ plenty wiser, and more beautiful than 
I,” said Amy. 

‘‘ Excuse me, but I have seen none so well fitted 
in wisdom and devotion for my need, and the cause 
I serve — the cause of human redemption — since another 
Amy died I loved, until I saw you,” said Selden earn- 
estly. 

Please do not press your suit any further, Mr. 
Selden,” said Amy, in a tone of slight displeasure. “I 
thank you for your compliment, and you may rely upon 
my sympathy and prayer, and the pleasure your grow- 
ing fame will give me ; but, for your own happiness and 
mine, dismiss me forever from your thoughts, excepting 
as a friend. I mean all I say.” 

You are a noble woman. Miss Macdonald,” said 
Selden, turning from his vain pursuit. will obey you; 
I do 7iow; but I admire you more than ever. That 
you cannot help.” 

‘‘ The one you need is waiting for you. Go on, 


282 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


and you will find her/’ said Amy. I wonder you have 
not found her since another Amy died, years since.” 

‘‘I found her, and she said ‘go on,’” said Selden, 
smiling. 

“ I think not, Mr. Selden,” said Amy naively. They 
shook hands cordially, and Selden went and thanked 
Andy for his advice and brotherly spirit, and Rachel 
for making his visits to the parsonage so pleasant; and 
departed for the city, with “ God bless you,” and “ come 
again next summer,” singing to his heart. 

Poor Tom! He had received but one letter from Amy 
for some time, and that one was not from his old Amy. 
It was respectful, but guarded in every sentence— a 
little cold, Tom thought, and screening from him some 
trouble. As to the last letter he had sent, in which 
he asked her for her hand, he had received no reply 
whatever. What could it mean ? It seemed so unlike 
the frank woman he had judged Amy to be — except- 
ing this matter. 

“ Bob,” he said — Bob knew all, and was glad — “I 
don’t see what’s the matter with your sister Amy.” 

“ What is the trouble now, Tom ?” 

“ That is just what I’d like to know. Bob. Amy 
has written me a business sort of a letter, about the 
stores and post-ofiice, and left her heart out — so it 
seems to me.” 

“ Well, you know we all have unaccountable moods, 
Tom,” said Bob. “ I guess Amy’s all right. Amy has 
got a mood.” 


SELDENjiOR DALTON? 


283 


Yes, but we don’t like other people to have them 
toward said Tom, with emphasis. “ Doubtful moods 
aretroublesome.” 

“Well,” said Bob, “business is rather dull. You 
had better go to ‘ Basking Shore’ and see for yourself 
what has made rough the course of love. They say it 
‘never did run smooth.’” 

Tom Dalton entered the parsonage a few hours after 
Selden had gone, and, in his own jolly, whole-souled 
way, shook hands with Andy and Rachel, kissed the 
children, and then said, “ Where is that woman Amy ?” 

“ In the parlor, I think,” said Rachel. Go and see 
her ; something troubles her ; she won’t tell us. Says 
she isn’t homesick, and is not sick otherwise, and we 
are at our wits’ end. We are as much in the dark as 
you, Tom.” 

Tom passed into the parlor, and found Amy sit- 
ting by the window, looking at the sundown sky. 

“ Amy,” said Tom. 

Poor Amy! She rose and held out her hand — 
and — well — cried. 

“ What on earth is the matter, Amy ? Don’t want 
to get rid of Tom, do you ?” 

“You want to get rid of said Amy, “ I am sure.” 

“ There, there ! Amy Burns \ tell me what is the cause 
of all this,” said Tom, in his tender, manly way — killing 
suspicion. 

Amy i)ulled the crumpled letter from her pocket, 
and laid it in Tom’s hand, beginning already to feel 
relieved. 


284 


SUNSHINE AMONG tllE CLOUDS. 


Tom read it, and laughed — he could not help it, 
even though it should provoke — and said, “ Amy, that 
woman has pestered me at parties and elsewhere;” and 
then he told her a story of envy and hypocrisy which, 
for the credit of human nature, we will not put in the 
book. 

Amy was satisfied, and so comforted ; and our beau- 
tiful queen Confidence blessed them there together, these 
children of God; and infamous, scowling, cruel queen 
Jealousy, forced to lift her shadow from Amy’s heart 
and path, went off muttering her useless curses, and 
returned no more. 

“Yet there is one more cursed than they all — 

That canker-worm, that monster, Jealousy.’^ 

But love suffers long, and is kind,” and, in the end 
wins her battle against open and secret hostility. 


CHAPTER LI. 


SELDON’s tour TALK WITH BERKLEY BILLY DUVAL. 

NE YEAR after Henry Selden’s interview with 



Amy Burns Macdonald, in the parsonage at Bask- 
ing Shore,” he made a tour of the great northern lakes, 
those great inland seas. His winter’s work had been 
bright, vigorous, and eminently successful. Both he and 
his church had grown in knowledge, earnestness, and 
practical power ; and high hopes were entertained of 
great usefulness at home and abroad. Young men espe- 
cially were drawn to the services, and many had already 
surrendered their wills to the will of God; and gladness 
gleamed from the faces of the thronged house. The 
old church felt that the “ garment” of their eloquent 
and wise old pastor, gone to his great reward, had 
fallen on young Selden; and the distrust at first felt, 
on account of his inexperience, had nearly disappeared. 
And now that the hot, sultry dog-days” had come, he, 
with many of his friends, left the monotonous pave- 
ments for the fresh fields and woods of the country, and 
the breezes of the sea-shore — having made arrange- 
ments, however, for the regular preaching of the gospel, 
and visitations among the sick and poor. 


286 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Seldcn was a lover of books filled with old and 
fresh thoughts, informing and suggestive — which make 
the best books— on science, art, and theology. His 
library already contained the best sermons of living 
able preachers, as well as of the dead; and every week 
he was enriching it. But he also loved nature, her 
rocks and rills, mountain and valley. Observed her in 
all her moods and forms of life and beauty, and gath- 
ered illustrations to point sharply the lessons of the ser- 
mon. Always and everywhere, among mountains or men, 
preach ” was before his mind ; hence people were glad 
to hear him again who had heard him once — ‘‘he was 
so fresh,” they said. 

On the way, Selden stopped over one Sunday at 
“ Basking Shore,” and preached for Andy Macdonald. 
John Lincoln wondered at the growth made in one short 
year, and Andy was somewhat surprised at the breadth 
and depth betrayed. Of course he was invited to the 
parsonage; went, and was more delighted than ever 
with the charming spirit that ruled and beautified the 
home of the minister. He saw that it was not a thing 
put on for the occasion, but was the habitual atmos- 
phere and glory. Each was the servant of the other, 
in love; and the sinews of some hidden strength were 
profoundly felt. Of course, Selden met Amy, and she 
said, at a fitting time, “ Have you found her yet, Mr. 
Selden ?” 

“ I have. Miss Macdonald,” said Selden promptly, 
an.d as if it were something to be proud of 


selden’s tour. 


287 


‘‘ I am very glad to hear it,” said Amy. I knew 
you would find her, and that she would find you !” 

“ We have found each other,” said Selden, and 
we are to be married soon after my return to the 
city, in October; and, beg your pardon. Miss Amy, I 
somehow feel that she is the best of all I The very 
best of women for a minister’s wife.’’ 

‘‘Good! good!” said Amy with emphasis — her face 
glowing as she said it, a little to Selden’s surprise — 
“that is 'way to feel. You should not marry her 

unless you feel that in some way she is ‘best of all’ 
Instinctively she would soon know it, were she second 
in your mind. No woman can be a happy wife, unless 
she knows that she is the very first in the love and 
admiration of her husband.” 

“ You are quite a preacher, Amy,” said Selden, pleased 
with the sentiment and animation of the honest and frank 
woman. 

“ Preacher or no,” said Amy, “ I am a plain, mat- 
ter-of-fact woman in this affair; and I am real glad to 
hear you say ‘ she is the best of all.’ ” 

“ Thank you. Miss Macdonald,” said the preacher. 

In the course of time Selden reached Montreal, where 
he tarried ten days — that is to say, made that city his 
head-quarters, while he studied the surrounding country, 
going as far as Quebec. Rowing and fishing were re- 
creation and sport to him, and so, as often as possible, 
he was on the river. One fine day, weary with fish- 
ing, he rowed leisurely along, drinking in the sunshine. 


288 


SUNSHIJNE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


bracing air and fresh views, when his eye was attracted 
to a cleared spot and log-house on the shore. Always 
ready for new adventures, he made a landing, fastened 
his boat to a stake driven for that purpose in the sand, 
and walked toward the house. On reaching the gate, 
he saw a bent old negro caring for some flowers and 
honeysuckle about the door, and after a little time 
saluted him, and said, What is your name, my 
friend ?” 

The old man turned, took off his old straw hat, and 
bowing, said, ‘‘ Tze Uncle Matt, massa.” 

Uncle Matt !” said Selden, ‘‘ why, I have surely heard 
that name before.” 

“ ’Spec’ ye mout, massa. I’ze trabbl’d heaps tru dis 
wild’ness wo’ld, marchin’ to de odder, tru de slus an 
obber de scary mount’ns. Mos’ dar now, massa, bress 
de Lor!” 

I know you,” said Selden. ‘‘ I found you perish- 
ing in the snow, one cold winter’s night, in the road 
that leads to Rochester. Do you remember?” 

Uncle Matt looked sharply into Selden’s face, and 
said, ‘‘ Golly, massa ! ’pears like ye was de berry man. 
Bress de Lor, mos’ done gone dat time! ’Cept fur dy 
in’vention, dis chile shoutin’ hallelu in de kingdom come. 
De Lor sent ye dat time, ’cordin’ to His a’mighty pur- 
pus. Preach de gospel ob de Lor, Massa Seldom ?” 

Yes, Uncle Matt,” said Selden, smiling at the blun- 
der; “and I like to preach it often, and better and better.” 

“ Dat’s no honor to ye, massa, to lub Him mo’ and 


selden’s tour. . 289 

mo'. ’Spec' ye’d be Jonah in de belly ob de whale 
mighty quick, ’cept ye lub ’m mo’ and mo’.” 

How is that, Uncle Matt ?” said Selden, leading 
him on. 

’Spec’ ye’d pay yer fare in de boat to Tarsha, when 
de Lor send ye to Nin’veh,” said Uncle Matt with em- 
phasis. 

“ Well, when the Lord sends me to Nineveh, that 
great city, to cry against it, I go,” said Selden, his soul 
warming with the thought of his own great work and 
field. 

Bress de Lor !” said the black, rolling his eyes up 
toward the skies, ’spec’ yer done pract/^d' on sinnahs. 
Dis chile knows de diff ’rence dar am ’tween meat and 
hollar ! Down in Sou’ Carliny, whar I growed up, heard 
Massa Fenton preach, and he ’light’n’d dis chile ’mazin’ 
on de glories ob de cross. Old Massa Fenton he gone 
to glory now. ’Spec’ he got one ob de ’tic’lar burnin’ 
crowns; and I got no use fur de boys what practize, 
on sinnahs or saints.” 

Neither have I, Uncle Matt,^’ said Selden. 

Just then Andrew Macdonald, Sen., came to the 
door, and warmly welcomed Selden to his log-house in 
the wilderness. What was said cannot now be told; 
but Henry Selden was greatly astonished over all that 
was told him, and he never forgot the day — it more 
than paid him for the trip to Montreal. What he then 
learned intensified his love for the gospel, and helped 
make him a stronger preacher. Fie said, as he rowed 

13 


2 1)0 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

back to the city, I must preach to men^' and nothing 
is too hard for God.” 

On reaching the hotel, Selden ran his eye down 
the column of the new arrivals, and, to his joy, found the 
name of Samuel Berkley, to whom he had been introckiced 
in the parsonage at Basking Shore, and for whom he felt 
very great respect. He saw him at the supper table, 
and he seemed to be alone. After supper he followed 
him into the hall, and accosted him. They were glad 
to meet, and said so; and Berkley invited Selden to 
his room, where a free talk was held on various mat- 
ters of importance, a few of which we will report. 

Mr. Berkley,^’ said Selden, “ I am a young man 
seeking power — mastership for God’s glory — as His 
minister; and when I read a book telling the deeds 
of distinguished ministers, or when I hear one, I ask, 
as the first question, ‘ Where or what is the secret of 
his power?’ Now to-day I am wondering where Andy 
Macdonald’s great strength is to be found ; and as you 
are intimate with him, will you tell me ? Of course 
I have my own idea.” ^ ^ 

‘‘Well,” said Berkley, turning his great honest face 
on his eager questioner, “Andy Macdonald’s power is 
no secret, not at all — no more than is the grandeur 
of a mountain or the sea a secret. The elements are 
in him, and he is all rounded out as to. character. To 
begin with, his faculties are superior ; and they are so 
trained that they move in any direction upon the order 
of his will. His knowledge of principles in every sphere 


TALK WITH BERKLEY. 


291 


as to their nature, action and results, is exact and full. 
He is well read in history, science, art and poetry, ns 
well as in theology; and the exactitude of his mem- 
ory surprises even those who are familiar with any given 
department or line of thought brought up for discus- 
sion. Start him on any subject, without a moment’s 
warning, and you get old truths seen in a new light, 
and wonderfully fresh ideas. Pompous ignorance shuns 
him, and the sceptics in Basking Shore have learned 
long since to let him alone, and some to believe with 
him. He has that happy faculty of separating the man 
from his ideas, and is never censorious towards the man, 
while he exposes the falsity of his ideas and principles 
He answers only the argument of his opponent, and 
makes him feel that he seeks no victory over him^ but 
over his error; hence he draws to his heart whomso- 
ever he meets. 

But even this would hardly give him the fame he 
has, would it ?” said Selden. 

Hardly, perhaps,” said Berkley ; '' it may help us 
to say that he has a noble heart, as you have seen, 
waiting on his intellect, as its beautiful bride: not such 
a heart as often makes a weak, a very weak man — 
vulgarly called ‘soft’ — but a strong man. His sym- 
pathies are intelligently delivered, and always in the right 
measure and direction. He uhderstands men, and is 
seldom deceived.” 

“As a man, I see the reason of his excellence,” 


292 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


said Selden, “for he hates deception, and is thoroughly 
honest ; but where is his force as a preacher ?” 

“As a preacher,” continued Berkley, “ he always 
gives everybody intellectual pleasure. Ycu expect some- 
thing, and you get it; which cannot be said always of 
some of us ; and he gives this pleasure somehow to peo- 
ple of all degrees of mental ability. Scholar, thinker, 
uneducated, old and young, get it. There are men who 
can speak for and reach one class as well as he, but he 
strangely reaches all classes and conditions. He seems 
to have thought out every subject until its truths dash 
like the sunshine upon every mind. Besides, he comes 
with an experience so large, so rich, of all that he 
tells you, that you see yourself exactly as you are, 
and find your whole nature aspiring with his after the 
grand altitudes of character. ‘ Come with me,’ he will 
tenderly say to them all, just at the right moment, 
‘and I will show you some qualities the Master had, 
which will make you strong and happy; and you shall 
have them too, without money and without price. Oh, 
there is the Lord Jesus now! He has come to lead us — 
that dear old saint there, and that little child, and 
that man in the corner, who thinks God is not his 
Father — come along now!’ and we all go, and get what 
he said we would.” > 

“ How you make me love him !” said Selden. 

“ Another thing,” said Berkley, “ Andy will bear Hv- 
mg ivith. Sometimes you will feel that he is greater in 
private, at home, than in the pulpit.” 


TALK WITH BERKLEY. 


293 


‘‘I was deeply impressed with that fact last summer,” 
said Selden ; but has not his broad common sense much 
to do with his influence ?” 

''Undoubtedly,” said Berkley, "which he says is 'see- 
ing things as they are, and knowing what to do with 
them.’ But a perfect understanding and accord with 
God, I think, gives him his matchless charm ; and 
that he never, in words, says he has.” 

" There is another question I wish to ask you, Mr. 
Berkley.” 

" Say on.” 

"Ought not ministers to lay by something for 'a 
rainy day’ ?” 

" Assuredly,” said Berkley ; " why not ? In a house 
and lot, if possible, although they knew that they would 
move on in a year or two. No matter how short 
the pastorate, there is always time, it seems, to put 
a part of their little salary into stone walls of meet- 
ing-houses. Less there, I say, and more for ' a 
rainy day.’ True, the Lord said ' Lay not up treasures 
on earth;’ but He said to John, ‘Behold thy mother.’ 
John understood Jesus, and took Mary 'unto his own 
home;’ which he could not have done, if his money had 
been packed away in a meeting-house. There is a deal 
of mean avarice in the idea that a minister must not be 
'entangled with the world’ of a little house to die in, 
and for his wife to die in. ‘ Life insurance ’ is well 
enough sometimes, but land is secure until the day 
of judgment.” 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


294 


“ You seem to have made your mind up on that 
point. Now allow me to ask you how many sermons 
a minister should preach on each Sunday? Some peo- 
ple in my city say that the number should be three ; 
the majority, two; a respectable number, one.” 

Much can be said in favor of one sermon only. 
We should have more strong preachers ; but as things now 
are, two are necessary, especially in thickly settled neigh- 
borhoods. As to three sermons, I think the ideas would 
be as scarce as the hearers.” 

I agree with you, Mr. Berkley,” said Selden. ‘‘ How 
now about the length of the sermon ? Some promise 
the people that ‘ the sermon shall be only twenty min- 
utes long.^ ” 

‘‘ Indeed !” said Berkley, laughing. They of course 
are extraordinary men, and are able, to do it ! I wonder, 
however, that some one of the old Fathers does not rise 
up from under the meeting-house, to protest — shaking 
his grand old hour-and-a-half sermon at them. But all 
this aside. That sermon is just the right length, in which 
neither preacher nor hearer thinks of the time at all. 
In heated debate great victories have been wrought by a 
short argument; but no great sermon was ever preached 
in twenty minutes. The object of preaching is to in- 
form and move souls. When that is reached the preach- 
er may stop ; but no man has a right to play at 
preaching. I am never long now, but I should feel hu- 
miliated to preach by a measuring-stick.” 

“ I thank you for your kindness, Mr. Berkley,” said 
Selden, rising to go. 


BILLY DUVAL. 


295 


Not a word,” said Berkley. Sit down while I tell 
you a story, and then you may go. It is about an 
old minister’s trial. 

^ Uncle Billy Duval,’* as he was popularly termed, 
lived and preached a plain gospel along the frontier of 

the State of , in a region which he saw grow from 

primitive wildness into the busy scenes of civilization. 
Increasing years and improved culture sadly waned Uncle 
Billy’s influence as a preacher; but his simple, unos- 
tentatious manners, unimpeachable integrity and quaint 
originality, maintained for him an unbounded influence 
as a man. For years he had labored — when labor in 
this sense possessed significance — as the missionary of 
the B. R. Association, then covering the wide sweep 
of many counties. This honor he coveted; nobly he 
magnified his office; no greater joy was his, than up- 
holding the cross amid the forests, or under the roof 
of a rude log-house. But the time drew near when 
the necessity of younger and more energetic blood for 
this arduous mission-work was recognized ; but how to 
supersede Uncle Billy was a grave problem, and one 
not considered too trivial to be laid before the Lord 
in earnest prayer. The need was not to be denied, 
and he alone failed to perceive the necessity. To take 
from him his coveted honor, was like taking the heart’s 
blood. 

The Association met. Two young men having com- 


* A fact, as related by Rev. Lansing Burrows. 


/ 


296 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

pleted their studies, fresh and eager, were ready for 
the work. Quietly the delegates cast ballots for their 
choice for the ensuing year, and the young men were, 
by large majorities, appointed to the work. 

“ Silent as the grave Uncle Billy walked, after the 
meeting was adjourned, to the house of a. friend, whither 

gathered a large number of the principal men to ob- 

% 

tain hospitality. Supper being ended, the patriarchs, 
with their corn-cob pipes, were seated beneath the wide 
spreading trees. Uncle Billy, yet silent, sat in the cen- 
ter, the last ruddy hues of the setting sun beautifully 
touching his long silver beard. Then, for the first time 
after the decisive action of the meeting, he began to 
discourse, and in his accustomed preaching tone — an 
inimitable whine, and through his nose as well — told 
this story: 

‘‘ Many, many years ago, sir ; away over yon hill, 
sir; thar lived a man as had several children, sir. It 
was a mighty wild country then, sir; and I lived ’way 
down toward the Ozark Mountains, sir. It fell out on 
a certain day, sir ; that one of the young damsels, sir; 
was desirous of being married, sir; and word was sent 
to me to come and marry her, sir. So I sot out, and 
cornin’ along right peert, sir, I found the women busy 
about the weddin’ supper, sir; and so I put up my 
horse, sir ; and went down to a field where the young 
men were butcherin’ a calf, sir; and, as I sot and 
watched ’em, sir; I saw an old feeble dog, sir — so old 
that he had no teeth, and he mighty nigh fell, sir, 
when he tried to walk around, sir. He was tryin’, you 
see, to get some of the pieces, sir, that the boys was 


BILLY DUVAL. 


297 


a throwin’ away, sir; but every time he got a holt of a 
good piece of meat, sir, there was two black no account 
slick pups, sir, that come up and took it away from 
him, sir. I watched that quite a while, sir; when the 
elder brother come up from the ‘field, sir; whar he’d 
been hoein’ his corn, sir ; and he sot up on the fence 
by me, sir; a fannin’ hisself with his big straw hat, sir. 
All of a suddent he see that old dog and them pups, sir. 
Then I saw, sir, that he was a weepin’, sir; and wipin’ 
his eyes and lookin’ kinder put out, sir; and says he to 
me, says he, sir: ‘That old dog putty nigh raised us 
children, sir. He alius was a faithful beast, sir. He’d go 

with us, sir, when we went to school, and kept the 

varmint away from us, sir; and he’d watch ’round the 
house, and nobody’d dare trouble us, sir. That dog 
as good as saved my life, sir, many a time ; and now 
look at him, sir! Look! he can’t get a little piece o’ 
throw’d-away meat, sir, jest for them or’nary good-for- 
nothin’ pups; and I jest can’t stand it, sir!’ And then 
the elder brother he got down off the fence, sir, and 
he went up to the calf, sir, and he took the knife, and 
he cut off a good big piece offen the round, sir ; and 
he put it down between his feet, sir; and he called the 
old dog, sir, and says he, ‘ Here, Boss, you eat that, 

sir; and I’ll keep the slick pups away with a stick,’ 

sir; and he stood by until the old dog eat it all up, 
sir; and went behind the wood-shed and laid down and 
went to sleep, sir. 

“Uncle Billy said no more then, nor ever afterward, 
about the decisive action of the meeting; but the crowd 
understood him ;. and there was not a dry eye there 
when he got through with his parable.” 


298 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Bless his old heart,” said Selden, what a fine 
illustration he gave of ‘ Trust in Trial.’ ” 

‘^Indeed he did,” said Berkley, ‘‘and a sign of genius, 
too. May we be as useful as was he, and have like 
trust in the Elder Brother, when ‘ the grasshopper be- 
comes a burden.’ ” ' 

“ Good night, Mr. Berkley.” 

“ Good night, Selden,” said Berkley, “ let us preach 
the ‘ Elder Brother.’ ” 


CHAPTER LII. 


A NOTABLE VISIT — MACCULLUM’S REVELATIONS. 
“ Doth my father yet live ?” 

A ndy sent Maccullum’s letter to Bob, and his 
cup of joy was full to overflowing. Sometimes, 
when Bob thought of the bitter experience of his boy- 
hood, caused by the unnatural coldness of his father, 
he questioned whether any love was retained for him; 
but with the letter containing the good news, the bound 
and smitten angel in him rose and sang. The tender 
love that should have been felt in measureless abundance 
towards his father when a boy, burst- out at last in the 
vigor of his manhood. The winter had been long and 
cold, freezing many a singing stream; but the spring, 
warm and beautiful, has come and set them all free. 
How like a little boy he feels, as an old, old hunger 
is fed ? He climbs the once forbidden knee — throws 
his little arms around the strong neck — plays with the 
heavy whiskers — gives and gets kisses, and asks, “Papa 
did bring Robbie’s wag’n ?” The dark barrier of boy- 
hood is all gone in an instant. Everything he had hun- 
gered to do in those dreary years he now freely does. 
He had always wanted to begin life again, and now 


300 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


he can and does. Even the house forbidden” and 
the poor sheltering lumber, fades away like a thing 
almost forgotten. Imagination ? It is more. Sometime 
or other the best in us will be completed. Over and 
over again he read the letter — read it to Mary, and 
lingered over the words, “ Your father is a new man. 
Talks constantly about his children. Must hasten to his 
side,” until his eyes filled with tears, and he broke com- 
pletely down for very joy. 

After a little while he said, Does he want to see 
me ? Well, he shall I Mary, excuse this seeming weak- 
ness in a man. I have found my father I'‘'‘ 

Only think of the load of principles he carried, fa- 
tal to all peace, and destructive of genuine happiness ! 
Thank God, he has put them all away, and found his 
children, and they their father ! 

Two noble men, whose personal appearance attracts 
attention, are walking along a business street in Mon- 
treal, eagerly reading the numbers and signs on the stores. 
They are Andy and Bob Macdonald. They find and 
enter Paxton’s shop, and inquire for John Maccullum. 

‘^John is over on the other side of town,” replied 
Paxton. ‘‘You are the gentlemen Macdonald? John is 
expecting you. Be seated, gentlemen; he will soon be 
in.” 

Paxton saw at once that he was in the presence 
of no common men, and gave them the most respect- 
ful attention. Some general talk went on about the 
States, their journey, Montreal and Maccullum, in which 


A NOTABLE VISIT. 


301 


Paxton rejDeated the story of John’s disinterested love, 
and added, ‘‘John is the noblest man I ever had about 
me.” At length John came in, and we will let them 
have their own way — but the sunshine sang another 
morning hymn. 

The first outburst of gladness having subsided, Mac- 
cullum said, “ Noo, Andy, stan’ up. Bob, stan’ by yer 
brother. How tall ye are ! How fine ye look ! Are ye 
ma laddies o’ Glasgow? Ye were, an ye are, ma sun- 
shine ! Didna I tell ye it wuld be a’ richt ? an’ it is. 
Wait till ye see yer father, men ; an then ye’ll see for 
yersels it’s a’ richt. How wonnerfu’ is the way o’ the 
great and good God ! But coom, now, an see Mrs. 
Maccullum, yer auld Aunty Libby. For three days she’s 
been bakin’ an sweepin’ and bringin’ the sunlicht intae 
yer room, and all kinds o’ posies, to mak’ it sweet ; 
an I culdna go fast eneuch on her orders ; an its mony 
a scold I hae got on account o’ ye — but coom!” 

As they passed along the street, people said, “ What 
happy-looking men !” On reaching Maccullum’s cottage 
gate, Andy said, “Uncle John, stand back a minute” — 
and the brotiiers stepped softly to the door. 

The good woman stood by the table, ironing, and 
singing, in her quiet way. 


** When the laddies coom again. 

Fra the river doon; 

They shall hae the best we hae, 
I’ the noble toon. 

When the laddies coom”—— 


302 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

Bob had hold of one hand, Andy of the other, 
and Uncle John stood looking in at the door, his 
great strong face all aglow. The kind lady looked 
first at one and then at the other, until a flood of tears 
streamed down her bright old face. 

Do you know us, Aunty ?” said Andy. 

‘‘Do I ken ye?” said the woman, willing to be thus 
bound. “Ye’re up verra tall, but havena ye the same 
een, and the auld dimples i’ the cheek o’ the one and the 
chin o’ the other? Ye hae; an’ I suld ken ye ony where i’ 
the warld. Let go ma hands noo, laddies, an’ let me 
throw ma auld arms around yer necks and kiss ye for 
the sake o’ Alice, yer blessed mother, an for my ain 
auld heart.” 

The facts already given, and other little matters, 
were gone over until midnight, when, after God had 
been earnestly thanked for all His mercies through all 
the long, strange years, all retired to rest. The old 
friends could not sleep, and Uncle John Avith difficulty 
restrained his wife — when the wind rose towards morn- 
ing — from going into the “ spare room” to “ took the 
laddies up.” They were boys to her yet. • 

The following day was exceedingly delightful, when 
the brothers and Maccullum took the boat for the home 
in the wilderness. The sun shone brightly, the fleecy 
clouds swam softly along through the clear air, the 
river rolled grandly, and rocks and trees declared the 
glory and power of God. At length, as the boat neared 
the landing, Maccullum pointed the brothers to the log- 


A NOTABLE VISIT. 


303 

house where their father then was^ They landed, walked 
rapidly towards the house, and soon met Uncle Matt, 
who, hat in hand, stood in the path to greet them. 

‘'Is this Uncle Matt, of whom I liave heard?” said 
Andy, extending his hand. 

“I’se Uncle Matt, sah; what dar am left ob us,” 
said the black. 

“You appear to be very happy. Uncle Matt,” said 
Bob. 

“ Dis am a hebben belo’. De angels come down on 
brudder Jacob’s ladder, and hang all roun’ de gate, an 
de log-house; an de char’ot ob salvation roll ’long by 
de doo’.” 

“ Did anybody get in ?” asked Andy. 

“ Massa ’Donald, he step in joyful, an ride ’long 
wid King Jesus.” 

By this time the party had reached the gate, but 
only Andy and Bob went in. Maccullum and Uncle 
Matt strolled away together into the woods. The father 
was asleep, and the sons, with indescribable emotions, 
stood, looked and wept together over him. There was 
the same intellectual, massive brow, strayed over by a 
few silver hairs; the same firm lips, the same manly 
frame, full of strong sinews and nerves; the same sign 
of great pride, but softened now. The slumber of the 
man was as peaceful as a child’s; and, at times, the 
weary face brightened by the light which rolls from 
an inward Christ. In gentle whispers, the sleeping, 
dreaming man said, “Alice! my darling Alice ! — beauti- 


304 • SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

full beautiful! — forgiven? Yes, by the Lord, and thee! — 
Coming soon, dear wife ! — Andy ! Bob ! Amy ! — My 
children, how I wronged them ! Ah, I knew not what 
I did.” Then quietly he slumbered on, the flashes of 
light and misty shadows coming and going. In trem- 
bling tones, Andy said, “ Blessed be the God and Father 
of our Lord Jesus Christ;” and Bob said ‘‘Amen.” 

“Uncle Matt! Uncle Matt!” called the father, 
awakening, “ have they come ? Have the boys come ? 
Andrew and Robert, have they come? I long for my 
children.” 

“ We are here, dear father,” replied the weeping 
brothers, as they kneeled down by the side of the cot. 
Andy put his arm under the head of his father, and 
drew it to his heart, while Bob held his hands. Fully 
aroused, he said, “My deeply wronged sons, am^ I 
forgiven ?” 

“ Entirely, and forever,” said the brothers. “ This 
is the best day of our lives.” 

“Say yoii so? Then am I doubly blessed — forgiven 
of God and my boys ! Thank God ! thank God ! Do 
you wonder? you need not, my sons. I have seen 
Him whom I pierced, and rest in His arms of mercy. 
He is altogether lovely — altogether T said Andrew Mac- 
donald, Sen., with great earnestness. 

Maccullum and Uncle Matt now entered the room. 
Macdonald rose, greeted them warmly, and said, “ My 
sons, honor John Maccullum ! His life has been one 
of constant self-sacrifice. He clung to me when proud 


A NOTABLE VISIT. 305 

and resentful, wicked and base, and when broken in for- 
tune. Year after year he has followed me — one utterly 
unworthy — with undeviating fidelity. I can never reward 
him as he ought to be rewarded. God only can do it 
to the full measure of his desert. For my sake, love him.” 

I only did ma dooty,” said Uncle John; ‘‘an it 
was na ony hardship.” 

Turning to Uncle Matt, he said, “that man is also 
worthy of all praise.” 

“ Dar, now, Massa ’Donald, don’t talk dat way — 
’pears like ’vidin’ de honah wid de Lord,” broke in Uncle 
Matt. 

“ He has nursed me in my weakness,” continued 
Macdonald, “ been patient in my angry impatience, 
prayed for me when I cursed him, and given me what 
argument fails to give — an illustration of the Christly 
spirit.” 

“ Don’t b’l’eve ’m, gemmen. Uncle Matt don’t do 
nuthin’ widout de ’vine Sper’t. De bressed Lord ’shamed 
o’ dis darkey berry often, an sez Lie hab nuthin’ to do 
wid ’m ef he no ’have better. Don’t b’l’eve ’m, gemmen.” 

“ Well, my sons, be kind to Uncle Matt until he 
dies. He was like John the Baptist, going before the 
Master; and a preacher of righteousness to me — a sin- 
ner in the wilderness.” 

“ Gemmen, dis am a shame, ’par’n dis darkey wid 
<John de Baptist,’ who come befo’ de Lord, to make 
de roads straight. ’Spec’ ye mout be kind, widout ’vidin’ 
de glory.” 


3o6 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Well, Uncle Matt, it’s a’ richt ; we’ll na trooble ye,’> 
said M^cculluin ; “ ye’ll find i’ the hamper we brocht 

some fine chops. Get ready some dinner, noo; we’re 
glad an hungry.” 

Dar am dat Hebrew wo’ds ’gain what brudder 
Moses spoke to chill’n o’ Isr’el. ’Pears Massa ’Cullum 
dunno prop’r wo’ds, ’cept when he sez ^ chops ’ and ‘ hun- 
gry.’ 

At this the ' company laughed, and held delightful 
conversation, while Uncle Matt prepared the dinner in 
good style. At his call all drew around the table, and 
Andy said, “ Uncle Matt prepares a dinner fit for a 
king.” 

Dar now, Massa odder ’Donald, yer like yer fad- 
der, ’vidin’ alb de glory. I tell yer ’phatic’ly, fur de 
las’ time, dis darkey’s nuthin’ widout religion.” 

After dinner. Bob sat with his father, and gave him 
a full account of the late visit to Glasgow and Edin- 
burgh ; about Amy — her mental powers and fine Christ- 
ian graces — that she was at his home in Buffalo, and 
would soon stop with Andy at Basking Shore.” Each 
of us claims half her time.” He also followed the thread 
of their lives since they came to America, and dwelt 
lovingly on Andy’s great ability as a preacher, and the 
good he was doing; to all of which the father listened 
with eagerness and joy, and constantly said Thank God ! 
thank God !” while tears rolled down his cheeks. 

Maccullum and Andy went out and sat down on 
a rock overlooking the noble river, when Andy said, 


maccullum’s revelation. 307 

“ Uncle John, the hour has come when I may proper- 
ly ask you a few questions concerning my father. I 
have felt that there was some mystery about him, which 
after all may not be important — this I want to know.” 

MACCULLUM’S ACCOUNT, AS REPORTED BY ANDY. 

Well, Andy ” said Maccullum, “ it is right that you should 
know all I know, which is not very much. I know little 
about his boyhood. Your father would not allow me to ques- 
tion him about that. I have, however, gathered from various 
sources, that he was the son of a proud, aristocratic family 
in the north of Scotland ; that his father squandered the 
estate and died ; and that his mother, a woman of fine traits 
of character, but haughty, died soon afterwards, no longer de- 
siring to live. Your father was then placed with an aunt, 
who cared little for the boy, beyond schooling, feeding and 
clothing him, as a matter of duty. Feeling ill at ease under 
her suspicious eye, he said good-bye to her, came to Glasgow, 
and found occupation in a hat warehouse. Here he devel- 
oped great strength of mind, and rare business capacity, which 
won for him many admirers; and among these were, an elder- 
ly gentleman and his beautiful daughter, by the name of Dal- 
ton. After a while, Dalton loaned your father a sum of money, 
in order that he might establish himself in the hat business. 
Your father was very successful, and, from some receipts I 
saw, I think that Ire paid all his obligations to Dalton. Pre- 
cisely what his relations were to Dalton’s accomplished 
daughter, I do not know, but it was surmised that she was his 
betrothed.” 

“ Was my father’s name then on the sign ?” 

“ I have been told that ‘ Dalton & Co.’ was the sign, and 
that the ‘ Co.’ was understood to represent your father’s in- 
terest.” 


3o8 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Where did you first meet my father ?” said Andy. 

“ In the West Indies. The young lady’s health had failed? 
and the old man brought her out there for the winter. Your 
father visited them in February, and shipped with them in 
May, for Glasgow. I was first mate on board the ship ; and 
being fond of cards and wine, your father sought my com- 
pany. I became greatly attached to him, and it was under- 
stood that upon our arrival home I should leave the ship, 
learn the ways of the trade, and be his foreman. Every- 
thing went on ‘ as merry as a marriage bell,’ which I 
think your father expected soon to hear, until off the coast of 
Ireland, when, in a terrific gale, we were driven on the rocks, 
and our beautiful clipper went to pieces. Your father was 
very brave, and together we strove to save the Daltons ; 
but the boat capsized and they were lost. Being near your 
father, I grasped him, and drew him into another boat near 
by. While the gale was raging, a long and anxious con- 
versation was held between your father and the Daltons, the 
tenor of which I do not know ; but, as he stepped on shore, 
I and other sailors saw a bundle of papers protruding from 
his pocket, which were the deeds of ‘ Willow Place’ — en- 
tailed property, and which were to go to some distant and only 
relative. No claimant appearing, your father held the pa- 
pers, put his own name in the place of ^ Dalton, ’ leaving the 
‘ & Co.’ as it was, representing now, I think, in your father’s 
mind, ‘ Willow Place,’ which had been closed for years. The 
Daltons did not occupy it, leaving it for a more modern 
house, and which your father renovated, and to which he 
brought your mother, and where you. Bob, and Amy were 
born.” 

Wherein did my father do wrong ?” asked Andy, deeply 
interested. 

He never said that ^ Willow Place ’ was his, neither did 
he say it was not ; and few, if any, knew that he had no claim 


maccullum’s revelation. 309 

in law ; but the presumption that he had, gave him a posi- 
tion that he scarcely otherwise would have obtained in Glas- 
gow. I think, had a claimant ajipeared, he would have truly 
delivered up the papers, and moved away. None did, and 
he never sought one — kept his guilty and worthless secret, 
which subjected him to much annoyance from the suspicious 
sailors, who saw papers in his possession at the time of the 
wreck, as I have said.” 

One of those men,” said Andy, must have been the 
sailor injured in a collision we had at sea, when Bob and I 
were homeward bound, and who was brought on board our 
ship for medical attendance. He told me that he had 
wronged my father; said that he was a changed man, and 
sent this bank-note, as part payment of his debt.” 

“ How very singular 1” said Maccullum. 

‘‘ Is there any thing more ?” asked Andy. 

“ Nothing more, I think. But this secret was, I be- 
lieve, the plague of his life, and the cause of his hard, 
bitter disposition, and mysterious estrangement from his 
family at a time when he was most needed. Putting in, 
measurably, a false appearance — he was miserable, and easily 
led to join that wretched infidel club, which finished 
the bad work, and made him very different from the brave 
and generous man he was when I first met him.” 

Uncle John, how did you hold out so long ?” 

‘‘ I believed that a reaction would take place, and 
that he would do the proper thing; but I thought it would 
come sooner. I wanted to save him and you, and Bob 
and Amy ; hence I followed him to America ; aTid here, 
under the same old flag, the good end has come— he 


310 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

lias found jGod At his request, I immediately mailed 

all the papers to the proper authorities in Glasgow, 
with his desire that all matters pertaining to them should 
be thoroughly investigated; promising that if any claim 
of any kind existed against him, he would make all 
the restitution in his power. Thus was his godly re. 
pentance shown. This, I think, he will be able to 
do ; for, as the times improve, I am constantly re- 
ceiving money from old debtors of the firm whose 
protested notes broke down your father. They are all 
honest, excepting two, and will pay principal and in- 
terest, as they are able; which will make him and his 
children exceedingly well off.’^ 

“ And you, also. Uncle John,” said Andy. 

‘^Your father does not owe me a pound! — not a 
pound,” replied Maccullum. 

‘‘ Does he not ? We all owe you what pounds can 
not buy. If money comes to us, money shall go to you,” 
said Andy. 

I have my reward in a good conscience. I needed the 
discipline I have got. Andy, as I sit by your side to- 
day, on the bluff of this noble river, and see the sun^ 
shine that dashes down on us all, through what God 
has done for your father, I would not exchange places 
with a king.” 

You are a noble man, John Maccullum,” said 
Andy — “‘the noblest work of God.’” 

“Tut, tut, Andy; how glad your mother must be 
to-day, as she looks through the stars on us, as I be- 
lieve she does !” 


maccullum’s revelation. 


3II 

Great tears dropped dowii on 'Maccullum’s feet, from 
Andy’s eyes. 

One dhing more,” said Andy. “ Did you say that 
the name of the original owner of ‘ Willow Place’ was 
Dalton 

I did : Thomas Dalton.” 

Another mystery,” said Andy. ‘‘A boy by the 
name of Tom Dalton was sleeping under the same 
pile of old ship-plank where Bob and I slept, that 
night after Bob’s return to Glasgow, you remember. 
In the morning we scraped acquaintance through a 
chink in the lumber, and he asked us ‘ whether we 
would be his brothers?’ We said ^ oh yes,’ without 
thinking much about it, and he has followed us ever 
since in our wanderings; flitting in and out, but never 
troubling us; and now he is with Bob in Buffalo, high- 
ly respected, and growing in influence. Bob says that 
Tom carelessly remarked, one day, that ‘he had pre- 
served a yellow slip of paper, written and given him 
by his dying mother, to the effect that he was heir 
to an old estate in Glasgow ;’ but adding, ‘ I have al- 
ways thought it one of those delusions cherished by 
people who carry names which once represented great 
estates, and I think so still.’ Now,” said Andy, “there 
is something in it. I believe that Tom Dalton is heir 
to ‘Willow Place’! I do; and shall be heartily glad 
if he is.’^ 

“We will see,” said Maccullum. “ I will have the 
records searched; but it may be a snare; therefore say 


312 


SUNSHINE A^IONG THE CLOUDS. 


nothing to Tom about it. Let him who is doing well 
go on to do better in the same way. Fortunes have been 
wasted in this vain search.” 

Maccullum returned to Montreal the next day. Andy 
and Bob remained several days with their father, in- 
creasingly proud and glad; and having completed some 
arrangements, which will appear hereafter, returned to the 
“States” — the one to Buffalo, the other to “Basking 
Shore.” 


CHAPTER LIII. 


A SINGLE DAY 


** Life is too short to waste 
In critic peep or cynic barkj 
Quarrel, or reprimand.’’ 



HERE WERE THOSE even in “Basking Shore,” 


where toiled a conscientious minister — a man 


who felt that time was not his own, but God’s and 
the people’s — who said, “ ministers have an easy, time 
of it — easier than lawyers or doctors, or store-keepers, 
or mechanics, or women.” Bill Blanchard said, “ They’re 
a lazy set; alle’rs gettin* tired, ’n want’n’ play-spells 
’fore school’s out. Thar’s dom’ne Mac, weighs nigh 
onto two hundred, streak’n’ off to Europe, cost’n’ a 
heap of shill’n’s. See him to the dogs, ’fore I ’scribe 
fur his salary — like a salary meself.” 

Andy had spent valuable time in the service of his 
family. 

Dan’l Bangs said, “ Lawyers had the worst of it. 
They had to talk six hours on a stretch, on murder and 
divorce cases,” forgetting that the preacher must be bold, 
cheering and fresh — original every week; ‘ year in and 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


year out’ — must talk to men who study, think and com- 
pare — these very trained lawyers, doctors, clear-headed 
business men and farmers; and, at the same time, gain 
the attention of youth and little children. 

Sally Jinks said : Easy time ! Massy sakes alive. 
Jinks sweats forty gallin to his pint! ’Nuff water- in 
Jinks’ shirt, t’other night, to drown the Elder’s cat. And 
ther’s his wife. Folks say ^ she's a hard time.’ Massy 
sakes alive ! ’n I seen her gad’n’ roun’, git’n’ ’scriptions 
fur Chiny, all dressed up in velvet bonnet "’n cull’d 
shawl ; ’n go’n’ to meet’n’s of Durkus ’cieties, ’n other 
fixin’s. What was I a do’n’ ? Jerkin’ my arms off a 
churn’n’ 1 ‘ Woman’s work’s never done’ in Jinks’ house.” 

Sally Jinks didn’t know the velvet bonnet had been 
made over five times. 

‘‘.I’m down on them preachers,” said Ricks, the 
tavern-keeper, with an oath that made even old Si 
Jinks open his bleared eyes wider than usual; ‘Moung’n’ 
round all the week and spoudn’ ’Sabba-days ’gainst al’en- 
able rights of citizens what pays ther taxes — ain’t that 
so, Si ?” 

‘‘That’s so, Kurn’l Ricks; give ’m Jessie,” said poor 
Jinks, waiting for an opportuniuty to ask for another glass. 

“ Las’ Sabba-day of rest,” continued Ricks, “ he said as 
how ‘ tav’rn-keepeis wan’t in no ’spectable bus’ness,’ and 
’clar’d fur ‘ local option’ law, to pervent sell’n’ Bo’rbon — 
best ‘ Old Kentuck.’ ” 

“Look a’ that. Si!” — and Ricks held up the full 
shining decanter in the sunlight. 


A SINGLE DAY. 


3x5 


‘‘Guv’ US a drop, Kiirn’l,” said Si, smacking his 
lips, down on ’m, like a thunder-storm!” 

‘'Walk up. Si; you’ve been a good customer. I’ll 
Stan’ treat; but ye must pay on that old score — look 
.there. Si I the figures I — next churnin’.” 

Si — poor old Si Jinks — once as fine a man as ever 
drove a team across the prairie-field, needed no urging. 
His butter and eggs were now going the way his farm 
and fine team had gone 1 

“ He talk’n’ ’bout feed’n’ the hungry and dress’n’ the 
naked ! a tak’n the bread out of my mouth. Thar’s 
the blacksmith con war ted, used to spen’ heap of ‘ lucre’ 
here. He’s took him off. Thar’s young Sanford, used 
to Stan’ treat all roun’. Got him, tool Tak’n’ bread out 
o’ my fam’ly’s mouths. ‘ Hard times ?’ and he a loung’n’ 
roun’ all the week a do’n’ nuth’n’.” 

Poor old Si rose and tottered out. On his way 
home he met Andy, and hung his head down, and An- 
dy said, “ Si, give it up, and get the farm back. 
I’jl stand by you!” 

Si passed the blacksmith’s, and said, “ I wonder if 
/ can ? He did.” 

“ Heasy times ! ” said Jim Ingersol. “ I’d like some 
o’ them ‘ heasy times,’ riding hall hover the prairie heat- , 
ing the best dinners, and getting a ’ole pound sterl’n^ 
slap down for splice’n’ a couple.” 

Such is a fair sample of the talk that was belched 
out among the heathen of the town, not to speak of 
heartless, sarcastic, brutal remarks often made by so- 


3i6 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


called respectable people, who were glad enough to 
have the services of the minister in times of contagious 
sickness, and at the funerals, when he was expected 
to carry them to glory for the “ deeds done in the 
body.” 

As the years that never wait sped on, and An- 
dy’s charge increased, and public duties bore down hard- 
er on brain, heart, and body, and his name and fame 
had spread near and ifar, he found it difficult, some 
weeks, to do justice to his sermons; not always on 
account of home duties, so much as for callers of all 
kinds. One remarkable day is worthy of our mention. 
Andy had chosen his texts for Sunday’s sermons, and 
thought about them as he did up some out-door work. 
On Wednesday morning, he entered his study, closed 
the door, and said, ‘ Now for a good day’s work.’ 
He had made his plan for the morning sermon, and 
reached that part of it in development where the soul 
of the minister kindles, if at all, and his thoughts flow 
with heat and vigor, and in beauty — moments of in- 
.tense mental pleasure, and prophets of success — when 
the old-fashioned hammer on the front door struck vig- 
orously. 

Entered the study, a Book Agent ! ! 

Andy laid down his pen as calmly as he could, 
and said as politely as he was able, ‘‘Well, my friend?” 

“ You’re a minister ?” 

“Trying to be,” said Andy. 

“ Well, I’m your man. Got a new book here, sir, 


A SINGLE DAY. 


317 


published in London, well bound, on ‘ The Great Trib- 
ulation.’ ” 

Don’t wish the book^^ said Andy. I’ve got the 
‘ Great Tribulation.’ ” 

‘‘Beg your pardon, sir. Here’s a map — a map, sir, 
of the ‘ Holy Land,’ taken on the spot — all the mount- 
ains and lakes, and the Jordan and the Dead Sea — big 
discount to ministers. Also A.’s New Atlas of the United 
States.” 

“ Cannot buy either, sir ; got no money,” said Andy. 

.“Hard times, I know; but then literary men must 
live, sir. Travelers must be sustained by the state, or 
individuals. Here’s a new book, just out, entitled ‘Sun- 
shine- Among the Clouds.’ Your name’s Macdonald ? 
Yes? Well, Macdonald of the book was a great man — 
maybe he’s you ? Take it, sir ? — discount to ministers,” 
rattled the agent. 

“ No, my friend, I don’t like the book ; but there 
is one chapter in it that’s true.” 

“ What one, sir ?” 

“ The one on Book Agents !” 

“ Good day, sir.” And off he went, leaving the 
door open behind him. 

“Secondly,” wrote Andy — _and entered Book Agent 
No. 2, a lady of pleasing address and correct language. 

“ Mr. Macdonald ?” 

“Yes, madam.” 

I have called this beautiful day — the air is lovely, 
sir ! how charming your situation / beautiful, beautiful 


3i8 sunshine among the clouds. 

town ! very healthy, is it not ? and such lovely views ! — 
to see if I can interest you in this ‘ New Encyclope- 
dia.’ You are aware, sir — for I address a clergyman 
whose literary taste, information and sound judgment 
are well known — that the world has never seen its 
equal for ability and exhaustiveness. Sir, every matter 
of interest is touched upon, in law, theology, science 
medicine, mechanics, with descriptions of distinguished 
men and women. Now, sir, I am a lone widow; my 
husband has gone to glory ; I must make a living ; 
will you be so good as to give me your name — your 
name^ sir, for its influence upon the leading members 
of your church, and of the town — and I will be under 
great obligations, and will wait your pleasure for the 
money, in instalments.” 

Excuse me, madam, I am not able to take it now,” 
said Andy, as she stopped to breathe. 

‘‘ Beautiful study 1 Maps, flowers, books. Can I ‘ 
look at your library, sir ? Excellent selections ! Do you 
like Dickens and Scott? Pictures! — picture! Your 
wife? Elegant! elegant! This one a sister? — I see.” 

A knock at the door. That blessed hammer ! Come 
in,” said Andy, still holding his idle pen in his hand. 

Dick Brunton thrust his head in, and said, “ Couldn’t 
git out of it. Elder! That nus’ry man’s in the acre 
lot, ’n wants the Elder. ” 

“ Good morning, sir,” said the Encyclopedia lady ; 
I’ll call next week on Wednesday — must have time to 
think.” 


A SINGLE DAY. 


319 

‘‘ The Elder ” went out into the lot, to see the 

nus’ry man,” who detained him half an hour over his 
specimen book. Andy bought a bbxh and a crab -apple 
tree. 

‘^Thirdly,” wrote Andy. Entered a plain honest far- 
mer, and sat down. His face was enough for Andy. 
Eaying down his pen, he brought his chair close to 
the side of his caller, and gently took his hand. 

''She — she’s gone. Elder! — died last night at twelve; 
soon after you left the bedside.” 

" Is Nellie gone ?” said the pastor. 

" Gone ! and the light of our home is out,” said the 
farmer. 

There was no interruption here. It was easy for 
Andy to take his cane, give his arm to the sobbing man, 
and walk home with him. No loss of time to spend 
an hour with the stricken parents, by the side of the dear, 
beautiful dead, and pour in the oil of consolation, as 
none knew better how to do than he. No matter how 
or where trial came, Andy was ready, and his heart 
never got crusted over. 

Returned — finished " thirdly,” and wrote fourthly. En- 
tered the study a young man who was going to the 
great city ; and for him also Andy had time. , Soon the 
young man went down the walk, determined to hold 
on to God, and with an introduction to a pastor in 
the city who loved young men, outside of sermons 
to them. That yoang man now blesses God for that 
hour in the study of his pastor. 


320 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Thirty minutes on fourthly.” Entered another young 
man, blushing. 

‘‘Sit down, sir,” said Andy, in a helpful, assuring 
manner. 

He put his cap on the chair, and sat down on it ! 

“ What can I do for you, young friend ? You needn’t 
be afraid,” said Macdonald. • 

“You’re the minister?” 

“ So they call me,” replied Andy smiling. “ Be at 
home, now, and tell me what you want.” 

“Well, you see, I thought Fd get married. Pa and 
ma said ’twould be a good thing to marry Jane, and 
bring her home, as they had no daughter, till I got a 
house built on the ‘ Brown land and I want you to 
come to her house to-morrow night, and marry us.” 

“ Fll be there, God willing,” said the minister. 

“Well, thank you, sir; but Jane is mighty bashful, 
and we want you -to be shorty you know — real short! 
Took t’other minister ten minutes to marry Jim Slocum. 
‘ Too long,’ Jane says.” 

“All right; but are not you the bashful one?” said 
Andy. 

“ Felt hot when I first came in, sir. Look at this 
cap! — flat as a pancake! How much will you charge?” 

“ Oh, what you’ll give me,” said Andy, much amused. 
Off he went, feeling very brave, and the minister went 
to dinner. 

Read and studied on “ fourthly” until three o’clock, 
and then attended the funeral of a stranger, three miles 
beyond the village. 


A SINGLE DAY. 


321 


At seven and a half o’clock, evening, the minister 
led his earnest, joyful prayer-meeting in the lecture room. 

On leaving the house, an old man, a stranger, who 
had been in the meeting, accosted Andy, and walked 
and talked with him as far as the parsonage. 

“ Where do you live, my friend ?” said Andy. 

“ Over at Millington, sir,” said the old man. 

“Tell me what is on your mind, sir,” said Mac- 
donald tenderly. 

“Well, ye see. I’ve got a neighbor, and he’s got 
seven boys and^ gals — all jined the church, and he 
says he’s got religion. He ain’t got no religion at all. 
He drinks, and can’t have no religion, sir. I tried it. 
Used to drink cider oil, sir. Two spirits don’t agree. 
Threw it in the vinegar barr’l. Best vinegar ever I had 
in my life, sir. Think’n’ ’bout my wife. She was a 
ChTistidH^ sir, if ever there was one. Feel lonesome? 
but glad she’s — she’s gone home.” And the old man’s 
voice was husky, and he shook from head to foot. 
(It was this sorrow and lonely feeling that led the old 
man to Andy’s side. “He’ll let me,” he had said in 
the meeting.) “Had nine children, sir — all belong to 
the church, sir, ’cept one. Can’t give him up ! The 
Lord’ll beat the devil. Why, sir, the devil had sich a 
hold on me — wanted to do ’way with myself, I did. 
So one day thought I’d go down to the deacon’s. Got 
into the woods — went ’cross lots — ^and word came, 

“ What you going to man for ? ’^esiis is the one, and 
only one.” 


322 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


What did you do then ?” said Andy. 

Laid right down, and got relief.” 

By this time the parsonage gate was reached, and 
the two men parted with very kind words, for they 
were brothers in the same great love. 

At eleven o’clock that night fourthly ” was finished. 

Andrew,” said Rachel, ‘‘ Sally Jinks says ministers 
have easy times. 

“And so does Ricks, I hear,” said Andy laughing. 


CHAPTER LIV. 

SEEKING AN HEIR. 

ACCULLUM immediately wrote Alexander Ma- 



theson, Macdonald’s former able attorney, re- 


quesftng him to search the church and county records 
at Dundee and Glasgow, for the D'alton family line.” 
At the same time he told him Andy’s story and his 
suspicions about Tom Dalton, and asked him to spare 
neither time nor money in the search. The attorney 
greatly respected John Maccullum, and knowing that so 
plain and practical a man as he would not send him on 
a foolish chase, gave himself earnestly to the task, and 
soon went to Dundee and began the search. How 
strangely one feels when deciphering old names on paper 
page or stone ! They lived among men, were glad and 
sorry, acted a part, died, and sleep forgotten. Matheson, 
found the Dalton name running through many genera- 
tions, until he reached a date within the memory of the 
famous oldest inhabitant,^’ when the thread was lost. 

Now,” said the attorney to himself, ^Svho and where is 
the oldest inhabitant who would likely know about it ? 
Might he not be the old bell-ringer? 1 will see.” 


3-4 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Early on Sunday morning, before church-time, the 
attorney strolled through the church-yard, and found 
the name Dalton ” on an old stone, nearly covered 
with mo^s. When the bell began ringing, he went into 
the belfry and found a courteous middle-aged man, to 
whom he said, ‘^Good morning, my friend. This is a 
pleasant thing to do — calling the people together to 
praise God !” 

‘‘Very pleasant, sir, very, to him who likes it; though 
one is tempted to think more of the bell than the Lord.” 

“No doubt,” replied the lawyer. “ I find myself some- 
times more jealous for the laws of the realm than God’s, 
and am glad that ‘ He remembereth our frame,’ of 
mind as well as body. Allow me now to ask, are 
there any Daltons living in Dundee ? I see that the 
dust of one is guarded in the yard yonder.” 

“ I cannot tell, sir,” replied the bell-ringer. “ Have 
you seen the vicar?” 

“No. Allow me to ask, is the old bell-ringer yet 
alive ?” 

“ He IS, sir. He is my father.” 

'“Can I see him?” 

“ After service, sir.” 

The old bell-ringer was sitting in his great arm-chair, 
as the two men entered the cottage, reading the names 
in the famify Bible, and said, looking up, “ I shall soon 
sleep with my fathers, as they did with theirs.” 

“Not soon^ I hope, father,” said the son; “cannot 
spare you yet. Here is this gentleman, now, who wants 
the service of your knowledge.” 


SEEKING AN HEIR. 


325 


“Yes,” said the attorney; “have you any recollec- 
tion of the Dalton family ?” 

“The Dalton sleeps in the church-yard, sir. I tolled 
the bell at his burial. I knew him well, sir.” 

“ Did he ever speak of any other branch of the 
family ?” 

“ He did, sir — of a brother who held entailed prop- 
erty in Glasgow.” 

“Had he children ?” 

“ Yes ; a son and daughter. The son married against 
his will, and was, as far as could be, discarded. I 
have since heard that the father and daughter were lost 
at sea ; and that the son also died before he could 
claim the property, leaving a son in the arms of the 
poor wife. That, sir, is all I know, and a part is hear- 
say. Looking for an heir, sir ?” 

“ I am ; and I am extremely obliged to you for 
your information, which I think is valuable,” said the 
lawyer. 

“ Welcome to it, sir ! I am often visited now for 
that purpose. Getting quite popular, you see, because 
valuable r 

The attorney rose, took the fine old bell-ringers hand, 
and, while shaking it, said, “ Heaven give you many 
peaceful years, before the bell tolls your burial.” 

“Just as God pleases, sir. Believe I am an Gieir and 
joint heir,’ sir, of an inheritance where burial bells are 
never tolled. I am waiting for the Bridegroom, sir. There 
are worse things than dying, sir,” 


326 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


Matheson returned to Glasgow, contident that a 
Strong clue had been secured; but how further to pro- 
ceed was the question. ‘‘ It is clear,” he finally concluded; 
“ that the son had lived a wretched life, and having bor. 
rowed what money he could on his right by entail to 
property, died wretchedly in hospital or almshouse. If 
so, there must be a record of him.” He went first 
to the hospital, and searched the records — the entries 
and dismissals of patients to the street or the grave — 
and found that one Thomas Dalton had been dismissed 
to the latter. Underneath the simple, sad record, in a 
woman’s handwriting, and poorly done, he read, ‘‘ wuld 
know mair, coom to 40 Clarendon street.” 

Proceeding to No. 40 of this narrow and obscure 
street, where * lived many respectable poor people, he 
found an honest woman, who laid down her knitting 
and looked up surprised, as much as to say What for 
d’ye coom here ? I didna send for a lawyer.” 

Good woman,” said the attorney respectfully, did 
you write these words ” — reading them — under the name 
of Thomas Dalton, in the hospital registry?” 

I did, sir. An what for d’ye ask ?” 

“To be frank, good woman, I am searching for an 

heirr 

“ An d’ye think / ken ?” 

“ I conclude, from what you wrote, that you know 
something — something important. Will you tell me what 
it is ?” 

“ An did I ken a secret, sir, d’ye think I’d tell it to 


SEEKING AN HEIR. 


327 

onybody wha asks me? Na, na! I ken the vvarld too 
weel — the aiild, sinfu’ warld.’^ 

The attorney assured the woman of his honest 
purpose, over and over again; told her all he knew 
about the case in hand, and promised to reward her 
well, should she help him to the discovery of the heir. 

“D'ye think Td sell ma soul for siller? Na, na; 
an honest woman ’ll take care o’ the richts o’ ithers, as 
she hopes for the mercy o’ God.” 

“ She wills said Matheson ; “ and now is your time . 
to help the right. By your knowledge, you can do it. 
Do it, and rich blessings will rest on your old gray head.” 

All the while, the woman had kept her keen black 
eye on every movement of the lawyer, until having come 
to the conclusion that his motives were pure, probably, 
she sharply said, “ I’ll trust ye, sir ; an the just God 
curse ye, if ye abuse ma trust.” 

“I will never abuse a woman. Tell me all you know. 
You may trust me;” said Matheson warmly. 

“ Weel, sir, I was nurse i’ the hospital, an one dole, 
fu’ night, some men brought a mon there a’ ready to dee. 
Verra changed he was, but I kent him. He was Tom 
Daltojil' 

“ Then you knew him before, did you ?” said the 
lawyer. 

“ Puir mon ! he was broken-hairted, an cried sae 
sair, ma hairt warmed tae him, tho’ I didna think 
he had done a’ richt; an I brushed the straggled locks 
once sae beautifu’, an washed his sad face, an he 


328 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

kent me, an said, ^ Molly — Molly Deans.’ ‘What, sir?’ 
I said. ‘ Molly, I shall dee,’ he said ; an he cried an 
groaned for a time, and then was still. ‘ D’ye think 
so, Mr. Dalton?’ I said. ‘Cod forbid that ye suld 
dee ! It mustna be, for the sake o’ the wife an 
bairn.’ ‘Yes, Molly,’ he said, ‘I shall die; and when 
I am gone, will you go and see the wife and the bairn, 
and ask her to forgive me ?’ Then he cried tae the 
Lord for mercy. I promised I wuld, an he smiled, an 
in a few hours he died wi’ her name an the bairn’s 
on his puir lips. Ah, he was sae wretched an sae penitent.’^ 

“ Did you go and see the wife ?” said the lawyer. 

“ I did, sir ; and she culdna speak to me. She was 

on the border o’ the river; but, save the sad look, she 

was beautifu’ ; and when I told her his word, ‘ wuld she 
forgie him ?’ she clasped her puir thin hands, and looked 
up to heaven sae thankfully. Ye see she culdna speak. 
Then, the spirit went out o’ the puir body, an a pleasant 
smile lay on the face o’ her, an the bairn’s head lay 
on the breast. Ah ! it was verra beautifu’ and very pitifu’ ^ 
’Tis a’ in my mind sae clear, sir.” 

“ Did you know her before ?” said the attorney. 

“ I was wi’ the leddy when the bairn was born.” 

“If the bairn is grown, would you know him ?” 

“ I would. I saw him i’ the streets till he was ten 

I culdna forget his een so bricht, and he was marked 
wi’ a cherry on the shoulder.” 

“ Had your Mr. Dalton, who died in the hospital, 
any relative in Glasgow ?” 


SEEKING AN HEIR. 


329 


His father owned ‘ Willow Place,’ but didna live 
there — i’ the city, somewhere. 

The attorney informed John Maccullum that every 
link in the chain of evidence supporting his Tom Dal- 
ton’s claim to the ownership of ‘‘Willow Place” - seemed 
to be supplied, and said, “ Tell him to come right on 
to Glasgow, if there is a cherry mark on his shoulder.” 

Tom sailed for Glasgow;' reached that city safely 
and went directly to the attorney’s office. The attorney 
sent for the old nurse, who recognized Tom at once, 
and was glad. All three went before the proper author- 
ities, and the attorney laid before them his evidence of. 
Tom’s right to the property of “ Willow Place.” The claim 
was allowed, and the old deeds placed in Tom’s hand. 

“ I congratulate you, Mr. Dalton,” said the law- 
yer. “God bless you, Tom,” said the nurse. “Yer fa- 
ther said ye were heir to property; but I didna think 
muckle o’ it.” “Thanks to God and to you, my friends, 
for this day,” said Tom, and paid them well. 

The prop'erty had now become very . valuable for 
business purposes ; and Tom leased it for a long term 
of years, and returned to America, not exceedingly rich^ 
but well off, and singing in his heart. The old build- 
ing was taken down, and shops built in its place. 


CHAPTER LV. 


CHURCH MUSIC AND SONG. 

“Oh, lull me, lull me, charming air! 

My senses rock with wonder sweet ! 

Like snow on wool thy fallings are ; 

Soft like a spirit’s are thy feet.” 


ENRY SELDEN was deeply and favorably im- 



pressed, during his stay in “ Basking Shore,” by the 


singing in the church — old fashioned,” he said, “ but 
oh, how good !” In his own church in the city, abun- 
dant provision was made for so-called first-class church 
music. The organ was exceedingly grand, and the play- 
er — of many years’ constant practice — made it thunder, 
warble, and cry at his pleasure; and the most elabor- 
ate music was rendered by a trained quartet ; but Sel- 
den often felt that the deep spiritual nature of the peo- 
ple had not been even touched. The people came. 
The trained got an intellectual feast, and the impress- 
ible were charmed; but the thought of skill, execution, 
and sound, were all they took away. Selden properly 
thought that the music of God’s house^ should do a 
deeper work than that — should voice the profoundest 


CHURCH MUSIC AND SONG. 33 1 

hunger of penitent and pained spirits — sweetest adora- 
tion — and bring solace. He was right. The singing in 
Basking Shore” did this, and pleased him ; therefore 
freely did he converse with Andy about it in the old 
study, vocal with song. 

Mr. Macdonald,” said Selden, I never before 
felt so much the power of music in the church ; and 
I wish you would give me some information — talk to 
me about the matter — I do not feel that we, in the 
city, are doing the most possible good with our organ 
and fine singers. We spend our money on works of 
art, good in itself — i. e., the art — but far above the 
people.” 

Do you know, Henry — so he had come to call 
him — ‘‘that you have asked an hard thing of me? 
This is a boundless realm, and consecrated ground. 
The angels only, who sang over the manger and who 
sing around His throne, can give us a true view of its 
dignity and magnificence. Neither money nor degrees 
of honor can reward a great composer, nor one who 
inspires Christian soldiers all over the world to sing 
‘Am I a soldier of the cross?’ or ‘Jesus, lover of my 
soul or ‘ Blow ye the trumpet, blow.’ When Oxford 
saw Handel accomplish one of his musical victories, and 
wanted to give him the degree of ‘ Doctor of Music,’ 
he said: ‘Vat I trow my money away for dat vich de 
blockhead vish ? I no vant !’ Both the man and the 
music were greater than any ‘ degree.’ ” 

“ True j I can see,” said Selden, “ with my limited 


332 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


knowledge of the facts, that the divine art has been 
developed at great cost of thought and discipline.” 

Indeed it has,” said Andy. ‘‘ Genius and toil go hand 
in hand along this difficult path. The line that appears 
to you so simple as to make you feel that you could 
do it, cost the poet a restless -day. That song which 
warbles like a mountain stream, and is so natural as 
to make you miss the fact that it is uncommon, cost 
the composer mental agony. Wonderful things grow to 
the blossom and the fruit. Labor is the genius that 
flashes the glory of the unseen world upon us, and 
Love is the mother of labor. The children of pure 
love are the angels of the world in sermon, or song, 
or deeds. The hymn that is not written with the red 
ink of Calvary is not worth singing in the church. 
I cannot bear heartless hymns. I want the beginning 
of every line to begin at the heart of Jesus and run 
down to mine. This costs labor and love. The early 
masters searched diligently for the laws of musical 
sounds, and their adaptation to poetry, as the ‘wise 
men from the east ’ searched and found under ‘ His 
star ’ ‘ the young child ^ who is the harmonious inspiring 
song in our earth of sad discords.” 

“ I see that the ancients loved music greatly,” said 
Selden. 

“ Among the Hebrews, Egyptians, Greeks and Ro- 
mans, there were various stringed instruments, and mar- 
velous hymns. Out of them all the piano grew, which 
always waits for a player who will love it and touch 


CHURCH MUSIC AND SONG. 


333 


it like an angel would touch a holy thing. If I could, 
I would place a piano in every family in my church. 
I was delighted, the other day, to find a piano — sec- 
ond-hand — in a farm-house; and another in the plain 
cottage of a mechanic. The children will bang refine- 
ment out of those old-fashioned boxes; and we cannot 
tell what marvels of music will come by and by. I 
would put one in every Sunday-school; but the organ 
belongs to the church.” 

It seems to me,’’ said Selden, “ that I find in the 
Bible two hearts — the praying heart and the singing 

heart. Does it strike you so. Mr. Macdonald ?” 

Yes,” said Andy, “ and these two are one. The 
praying heart swings before the mercy-seat, like the gold- 
en censer of the tabernacle ; and the singing heart war- 
bles forth its praise for mercies enjoyed, and of the 

character and works of God. It is true that the pro- 
foundest principles and thoughts of God and most sol- 
emn interests of men are here considered. Paul’s Get- 
ters,’ say they, are ^ weighty and powerful’— are so from 
the nature of his themes — but the grandest song-book, 
and fullest of music, is the Bible. Song dashes its bril- 
liant hues against every cloud, and mingles its nectar 
with every wormwood. When David kissed the marble 
lips of his beautiful boy, he put away his mourning and 
sang, ‘ I shall go to him.’ Among the tombs that hid 
themselves away in the hill-sides, or the graves that 

ridged the plain, Jesus sang, ‘ I am the resurrection 

and the life.’ The songs of Israel roll over the watery 


334 SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

graves of Egypt, thread the wilderness, and thunder 
through Jerusalem when the ark of God is brought 
from the house of Abinadab and Obed-edom. The 
‘ Pilgrimage’ is a poem of sorrow and joy, war and 
victory, trial and divine deliverance. 

“ There is no time just now to consider well the 
history of Bible song, but it everywhere abounds. Evi- 
dently a large place was given to music in the ser- 
vice of the ancient church. There were days of mourn- 
ing, but also days of singing. In different places, you 
read that singers were appointed to sing. Nehemiah 
put singers over the business of the house of God — 
not sour, grumbling men, but singmg men, joyous men; 
and there were, for grand occasions, singing men and 
singing women. David’s songs were sung by the human 
voice, and played by instruments. I say, then, you 
will hear an outburst of song, time and again, as if 
from thousands, upon the news of victory; and in the 
worship of God, when the tribes came up to the Tem- 
ple; and, also, from the leaders, as when Samuel, amid 
the dying thunders of Mizpeh, built up Ebenezer, say- 
ing, ‘ Hitherto the Lord hath helped us.’ What is pro- 
phecy but a song of anticipation of the coming and 
victories of the Redeemer? What is the gospel but the 
song of His advent and redeeming love? What did 
Jesus do but make sorry people sing ? In a different 
form, but in a no less fervent spirit, did song accom- 
pany the advent of Jesus, and characterize the worship 
of the primitive church. David said, ‘ Sing a new song ;’ 


CHURCH MUSIC AND SONG. . 


335 


and it leaped from the tongues of angels, and from 
the prayer-meeting in Jerusalem, and from the inner- 
most prison, and from the sorrowful hearts at the last, 
the ‘ Lord’s Supper.’ ” 

I have sometimes thought,” said Selden, that 
music has as much power over the people as oratory.” 

‘‘ I also,” replied Andy, '' have entertained the 
thought; but of course it must be 7nusic — penetrating, and 
spreading, and binding, and moving the better emotions 
and thoughts. Some players do not make music in 
their sounds. They make you think of Douglas Jerrold’s 
tipsy gentleman, who, after scraping the .door for an 
hour with his latch-key, leaned back and exclaimed: 
< By — Jove — some — somebody — has — stolen — stolen — 
stolen — keyhole P Who has not felt like Shakespeare 
when he says : 

“ ‘ Oh ! it came over me like the sweet south, 

That breathes upon a bank of violets, 

Stealing and giving odor’ ? 

“ Music tames angry passions, as when the good man 
was tempted to swear at his balking oxen, but sat 
down on a stump, and sang the ' Doxology’ until he 
gained self-control. Music cheers the desponding, soothes 
the wounded heart, revives pleasant recollections, invig- 
orates faith in God and humanity, drives away the bad 
spirits from the home and the meeting-house, and calls 
into both, the angelic.” 

Andy stopped, and said, “Excuse my enthusiasm, 
Henry; my mother was a sweet singer, and her musi- 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


cal blood dances in my veins, and I feel that the 
Lgrd’s people do not appreciate the immense power of 
right music and song. The people’s own singing should 
attract them to God’s house.” 

‘‘ Go on, Mr. Macdonald,” said Selden ; “ tell me in 
what form ? That is the point with me.” 

Andy then said: ‘‘In the church, music is a power, 
in the solo, duet or quartet; and a mighty power when 
all the people sing. It is magnificent then. Tlie peo- 
ple like it, and the preacher is eloquent unconsciously. 
Fill the church full of gospel music, and the devil will 
freeze on the top of the steeple.” 

“No one can estimate the power of Christian song 
upon the morals of a people, and upon the attractive- 
ness of the prayer-meeting and of the church worship. 
It is a large factor in Sunday-school and church suc- 
cess. That it is difficult to secure the highest success 
is betrayed by endless discussion about ‘how to do it.’ 
Let me say that no way which will secure all the 
comfort and help and cheer and conviction that are in 
music is to be condemned. Leading by precentor or 
quartet or choral choir is good, if that is the idea — 
leading the people. All ways work well, and all ways 
work wrongly : circumstances, co-nditions, abilities, need, 
common sense, are to be considered. If you have no 
congregation, you cannot have congregational singing. 
If you have a large congregation and good leading, 
you get grand singing, because timid people and people 
who have poor voices all sing, and discord is drowned. 


CHURCH MUSIC And song. 


337 


There are times when the voice -of the multitude is won- 
derful. There are other times when a single sweet voice 
leads to repentance or to Jesus. I shall never forget 
one night when sinners were broken-hearted around me, 
and the terrible stillness was broken only by their low 
sobbing, a Christian woman, in sweet, tender tones, sang 

‘Just as I am, without one plea, 

- But that Thy blood was shed for me.’ 

No choral choir could have equaled the power of that 
solo.” 

“I judge,” said Selden, “that you feel that no ren- 
dering of sacred song meets the demand, when the heart 
is left out ?” 

“Indeed, no,” said Andy. “You have heard the 
old story of the actress who, on her way to the theatre, 
overheard a woman singing 

“‘Depth of mercy, can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me?* 

Sh, went on to the then, re, when the ca],ed 

ap^ared, but, forgetting her part, sang ‘Depth of mer- 
cy,’ and gave her heart to the Lord. 

“ Multitudinous are the instances of conversion through 
the influence of the tender, hearty singing of Christly 
songs; hence the hymns must overflow with the pathos 
of Calvary and victory of the resurrection, and the sing- 
ing of them must be /f^«r/-singing. A hymn without the 
heart is like a sermon without the heart- God has no 
use for either. It is said of Mendelssohn that the ‘winds 


338 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


of heaven were about his head, and the still small voice 
was in his heart.’ Great was the intellect of Beethoven, 
and as great were his affections. His purity was un- 
blemished, and his reverence for God and holy things 
profound. In writing to a friend he said, ‘To-day is 
Sunday; see that ye love one another.^ It is said that 
his ideal of the divine art was the highest, and that 
he was true to it to the end. 

♦ 

“^Conceive now, if you please, a company of peo- 
ple coming together on Sunday or prayer-meeting night 
to worship Jesus. Business men and care-burdened women, 
age with its infirmities, youth with its inexperience — 
the tempted, the sad, the discouraged, the bereaved, 
fresh from the grave of darling ones — what a clus- 
ter of souls are here! Suppose now the minister reads 
the seventeenth of John and tenderly prays, or calls 
upon a brother whose heart is a prayer; then he opens 
the hymn-book and reads ‘ Rock of Ages,’ or ‘ All hail 
the power of Jesus’ name!’ or ‘Down life’s dark vale we 
wander, till Jesus comes’ — and then suppose all, feeling 
their need, enter into the singing of the immortal 
words — could the effect be otherwise than gracious? 
One would say to another, ‘ It was good to be there !’ 

“ In singing, as in preaching, the words, i. e., the 
sentiment — the truth taught — is all-important, in order 
to power. The need of help is so great and so urgent 
that the living water must gush right out of the hymn 
so that our thirsty souls shall drink and rejoice. It is 
not possible so say whether John Newton led more souls 


CHURCH MUSIC AND SONG. 


339 


to Jesus and comforted more saints by his preaching 
than his hymns. 

“Paul said to the Ephesians, ‘Speak to yourselves 
in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and 
making melody in your hearts to the Lord’— to the Lord! 
Isaiah said, ‘Make sweet melody, sing many songs, that 
thou mayst be remembered.’ But not for that only. 
No! But that you may mend the broken string of 
some poor human heart, and tune it for the heavenly 
orchestra. 

“ * Though they may forget the singer. 

They will not forget the song.*’* 

“Thank you, Mr. Macdonald,” said Selden. “I 
believe in my soul that you are right. The singing in 
your church proves it. I will go and get ‘all the 
people’ to sing, somehow or other.” 


CHAPTER LVI. 


CLOUDS GONE. 

I T HAD BEEN SNOWING all night long, and 
until noon of the twenty-fourth day of December; 
then the sun came out brightly, and with the sunshine 
came the merry jingle of sleigh-bells, and the ring of the 
path-makers’ shovels. The paths led to the parsonage, 
and the sleds stopped at the gate. ‘‘Ben Morton,” 
John Lincoln’s neighbor, said, “ Mr. Lincoln, what’ 
going on over at the domine’s?” 

“The Elder’s going to have a Christmas party,” 
said Lincoln. “ His father and a colored servant, a 
Mr. Maccullum and his wife, arrived yesterday from 
Canada. His sister Amy has been there some weeks; 
and his brother Bob and family came from Buffalo 
to-day.” 

“ Well, why do so many sleds stop there, and why 
are so many bundles left at the door?” 

“ The church folks found out what was going on, 
and turkeys, chickens, spare-ribs, apples, potatoes, and 
I can’t say what not^ are pouring in on them con- 
stantly, after the manner of the deluge. It does my old 


CLOUDS GONE. 


341 


heart good, Mr. Morton; I love the Elder, I tell you. 
He has helped me to such wonderful sight of the 
‘ riches of grace.^ 

I also am glad, Mr. Lincoln, although you may 
be surprised to hear me say so, knowing my life as you 
do. Very glad I am. Your domine fills my card, in his 
cheery, brave, manly life. I confess I feel out of the 
way before him, and in the way of a better self. Now 
I’d like to help over there at the parsonage, but don’t 
exactly know how. Any way give him my warm re- 
gards, and put me down fifty dollars for the cause he 
serves. Tell him that my sort, of folks respect him 
when they swear at him.” 

It was as John Lincoln said. Andy and Rachel 
had concluded to have a Christmas thanksgiving party, 
in view of God’s purposes and providences, which were 
dripping with mercies, like honey from the comb. TJie 
intention leaked out through John Lincoln’s telling his 
wife, and she, thinking Mrs. 'Macdonald would need help, 
told Betsey Griggs; and whole-hearted, wide-awake Bet- 
sey, ran around among the folks, both church and world’s 
people, and said, “ Send something over to the Elder’s 
for a Christmas dinner — and let it be the best ye got.” 

At the proper time Betsey Griggs, after she had 
seen, from behind her curtain, stacks of things on the 
way, went over to the parsonage, took off her bonnet 
and cloak uninvited, and said, Mrs. Macdonald, I’ve 
come to take charge of things a-coming, and the din- 
ner in particular.” 


342 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


“Betsey Griggs, you are always up to something! — 
What in the world now?’^ said Rachel. 

“ You’re a going to hev a party to-morrow, ain’t ye ? 
bear’d ye was.” 

“Yes, Betsey; but how did you come to know?” 
said Rachel. 

“Well, you want a good dinner, don’t ye? — no 
matter how I knows.” 

“ Oh, Betsey Griggs, when are you going to be mar- 
ried ?” 

“Never! Rachel Macdonald. I would a had James 
Robinson, if he’d a lived. Got enough to do now, 
’out think’n’ of the men’s ’dresses. The Lord knew 
there must be somebody to run in and out in ’mer- 
gencies, and I think, since he took Jim to heaven, 
that’s what I’m for. You didn’t know Jim ? He’d a been 
like John Lincoln — so folks say.” 

“ Bless your dear soul, Betsey, I have said that 
Basking Shore is rich in Betsey Griggs. You have been 
a great comfort to me. I wouldn’t let another woman 
jostle me out of my place as I will you. I am real 
glad that you have come, the baby is so fretful. Go 
on. Do as you like, Betsey. You know where every- 
thing is. Call Dick. He and Uncle Matt — a colored 
man — are having a jolly time in the wood -shed. Just 
hear Dick’s queer laugh!” 

Betsey Griggs turned and looked out of the window, 
but she couldn’t see any thing, for somehow it had grown 
hazy suddenly — then went into the kitchen and worked 


CLOUDS GONE. 


343 


till midnight over the dinner that was to be the best 
she ever spread. “I’ll let them city folks know what 
cook’n’ is,” she said. Dick and Uncle Matt helped 
Betsey cheerfully ; although at first she objected to the 
black man, and said, “ Mr. Matt — I b’l’eve they calls 
ye — can’t hev you ’round, no way; g’long into the eat’n’ 
room. You’re a ain’t ye ?” 

“Golly, Missus Betse)^, I’se a servant! De bressed 
Lord say, ‘Well done, good ’n faithful servant,' don’t 
He? ’Spec’ dats de ‘crown,’ Missus Betsey. ’Pears ye 
dunno what de Lor’ say.” 

“Very well,” said Betsey, laughing, “I’ll give you 
enough to do — I’ll ‘crown’ ye. Get me an armful of 
wood; a pail of water; peel them pippins; and wash them 
beets — quick 

“ Dar now ! — one ting at a time, please. Missus Bet- 
sey — dis darkey jes keeps busy ’cord’n’ to systum;” and 
Dick Brunton roared, and so did Betsey, over Uncle 
Matt’s funny actions. 

Christmas morning was bright; and happy were all 
the hearts at the parsonage. “Merry Christmas!” rang 
out like the chimes of the bells. 

After breakfast all were asked into the study, for 

worship. Betsey protested — said she had no time 

could worship the Lord in the kitchen, like Martha of 
Bethany; but finally yielded, saying as she sat down, 
“ Elder, words be few when people be glad.” 

The “word” was read, and Andy voiced the feel- 
ing of each in his prayer. The father took up the 


344 


SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 


thread, and said, O God, I thank Thee for what 
Thou hast done for me by Him whose birth we cele- 
brate. Thou hast blest the unworthiest, in blessing me. 
Forgive the wrongs I did. Bless my friends, children, 
and children’s children, for the sake of Him in whom 
I believe. Amen.” 

Betsey Griggs’ dinner was rich, relished, and praised. 
Betsey courtesied, and Uncle Matt whispered, Nebber 
’vide de glory. Missus Betsey.” Maccullum told droll 
Scotch stories, and Andy helped him. Amy was sharp 
and humorous, and her father wiped his eyes oftener 
than his mouth, as he cried and laughed together. 

After dinner the party retired to the parlor, when 
Andy said, Excuse me a moment.” He went into the 
study, carefully drew from a secret place something 
covered with heavy white silk drapery, carried it into 
the parlor, and hung it against the wall, opposite the 
fire-place. Betsey Griggs, Uncle Matt and Dick Brun- 
ton stood in the doorway, the children ceased playing, 
and all eyes watched Andy’s movements. Having hung 
his burden in the best %ht, he slowly drew away the 
silk cloth, and lo ! the intellectual, loving face of Alice 
Macdonald looked in a motherly way down upon them 
all!! For several moments no one moved or spoke, 
so deep was the excitement. Then John Maccullum 
said, How beautiful! Just as I saw her i’ the Bindery.” 
Amy cried, “ My mother 1 my blessed mother I” Mac- 
donald, trembling from head to foot, gazed intently on 
the features of his one best friend, and said, “ My 


CLOUDS GONE. 


345 


noble wife ! the wisest of mothers ! Would God I had 
known thee as I do now ! Yet I loved thee.” The 
brothers said, Our sunshine among our clouds!” Uncle 
Matt said, ‘‘Tears like dis am a street in de new Je- 
rus’lem, and all de angels am march'n’ houn^ and 
’roun’.” 

It is proper to say, that the brothers ordered the 
portrait painted from the miniature spoken of, when they 
passed through New York on their way to Glasgow, 
and that it had been expressed to John Lincoln, who 
concealed it until this Christmas-week. 

While one and another were making remarks about 
the picture, there was a knock at a side door. Andy 
opened the door, and Rachel said, “ They are ready.” 
Andy now flung the door wide open, and smiling, 
said, as Amy walked in, leaning on the arm of Tom 
Dalton, “ Allow me to introduce to you all, the bride- 
groom and bride of the day.” 

Together Tom and Amy stood under the portrait 
and Andy took their plighted love, and pronounced 
them “ husband and wife.” 

The scene of joy that followed beggars description, 
and we can only repeat some of the words spoken. 

Andrew Macdonald, Sen., took Tom Dalton’s hand 
in his, and said, “Mr. Dalton, Andy has told me all 
about you, and' I feel greatly honored in being per- 
mitted to call you my son.” 

“ I am the honored one to-day, father,” said Tom. 

“ Amy,” he said, as she laid her head against his 


34^ SUNSHINE AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

shoulder, and then it came pathetically, I have no 
claim.*’ 

Amy raised her head, wound her arms around his 
neck, and drew his wet cheeks down to her lips, kissed 

them, and said, ‘‘ Father, I am your daughter, and the 
future is ours.” 

‘‘God bless you, Tom,” said Andy and Bob — “can’t 
help being brothers now ! Take good care of our Amy.’^ 

Considerable kissing and hand shaking was done by 
the wives and children, as well as some protests made 
against Tom’s taking Aunty Amy away. 

Betsey Griggs shook hands heartily, in an angular 
way, and said, “Don’t kiss folks, married or not. No harm 
in it, ’spose ; but h’ain’t got that way in me. Less 
kiss’ll’ an more serv’n’ one another, is my doctrine. If 
you wants a dinner got ready, send for Betsey Griggs, 
and she’ll do it as to the Lord.” 

Uncle Matt came up in due time, and said, “ De Lor’ 
bress ye, chillen. ’Pears de bressed Marsta hab turned de 
water into de wine, and saved de best ob it till de las’.” 

Burly, grand John Maccullum gave his arm to 
Aunty Libby, stood in front of Tom and Amy, and 

then, looking around upon them all, said, “ Weeping may 
endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” 

Dick Brunton was crying in the corner. Andy said, 
“Dick, what’s the matter now?” 

“Oh, I’se so happy. Elder!” 

“ That’s right, Dick,” said Andy ; “ God wants us 
all to be happy.” 


CLOUDS GONE. 


347 


Dick went out to the barn, and told Dandy what 
had been going on in the house; drew from a place 
under the manger, where he kept his apples, a bunch 
of flowers he had bought of a neighbor ; came back 
to the room and gave them to Amy, saying, Luv 
posies, Missus Amy?” 

do, Dick,” said Amy; ‘‘but I love Dick Brun- 
ton more.” 

Dick turned away, and went out to see Dandy, and 
said, “ Dandy, you’s a hoss ; Tse a man. O’ co’rse you 
don’t know my feeln’s, but you’s a good hoss'" From 
that day Dick’s mind was so much stronger, that he 
was able to learn his letters; and in time spell out 
Christ’s words, “ Suffer little ones to come unto me.” 

“ Brother Bob Macdonald !” said Andy, “ where are 
the clouds? You old runaway! where are the clouds?” 

“Gone away on the wings of the sunshine of the 
Lord and of mother,” said Bob. 

“Mother! and God!” said Andy. 






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